


Ichor

by carriecmoney



Series: Petr(ichor) [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Animal Transformation, Blood and Gore, Bloodlust, Body Horror, Hallucinations, M/M, Psychic Bond, Sexy blood drinking, Vampires, Werewolves, dream imagery, not a soulmates au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-08 00:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12243357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carriecmoney/pseuds/carriecmoney
Summary: When a werewolf wanders into Oikawa's den on the night of a full moon, it seems like his luck has finally taken a turn for the better. But Iwaizumi is more than just the tasty snack he tries not to be and promises to upend Oikawa's carefully crafted world before the sun rises. Oikawa POV, companion to Petrichor.





	1. Hook

**Author's Note:**

> {A/N: God y'all have no idea how long this AU has been in the works, Shannon ([Shaples](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaples/pseuds/Shaples)) and I have been hitting at it with various blunt instruments since early 2016. But we're finally at a point where we can post it! The rest of the AU will be spread out across Halloween month, with Shannon posting [the Iwaizumi half](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12243048/chapters/27817398) and me posting this Oikawa part. I highly recommend reading her parts first since I wrote mine based on her script, but if you don't feel like it, please let me know if mine reads okay without the knowledge of hers :) It's also set in the same AU as her Oofuri werewolf fic [Second Skin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5119838/chapters/11778641), but this takes place ~10 years before it with none of the same characters so you don't need to know anything about it unless you want to. It's just some really solid writing on both our parts. Enjoy! [tumblr](http://carriecmoney.tumblr.com) [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/carriecmoney)}

Oikawa smelled it as soon as it walked in the lobby. His fingers stilled on the piano keys, the old blood in his teeth swelling up with his saliva as the two dead bodies’ iron and sweet decay faded in the presence of the new. Oikawa lifted his nose to it, mouth open. The scent paused at his front desk; he wasn’t the religious type, but he prayed it would find his back room without any nudging. It tasted so much cleaner when his prey caught itself.

His hands started playing again, lips still parted, head cocked. He traced his tongue along the tips of his teeth, hole in his chest thumping. The door creaked open.

Oikawa didn’t need to look at his fresh guest to know him. Tired, overheated from a life of labor, had steak and eggs and coffee for dinner, all served over the metallic sheen of a full mooned night. Every wolf’s musk tasted different in the air; this one spoke of early spring deep in the woods. Petrichor and ichor. Oikawa smiled at his blank sheet music to hold back his panting. He cut his eyes at the stranger – stocky, trucker’s uniform, wide hands and a wide face – before the new wolf looked away. Smart man.

The new wolf dug around at the old payphone by the bathrooms until Oikawa’s fingers found the end of their song and he faded out, the shadows of his back room creeping in. He ghosted through them to duck behind the bar, cleaning a glass there when the new wolf sat down, nostrils flaring, shoulders tense. A _very_ smart man caught in a live trap. Oikawa shifted his rag to the inside of the glass. “What’s your poison?”

“Actually,” the lone wolf growled, sand mountain rough, “I was hoping I could use your phone.”

“Paying customers only,” Oikawa apologized.

The wolf grunted. “I’ll pay you twenty bucks to let me use your phone.”

Oikawa _tsk_ ed, shaking his head, watching the wolf’s eyes watching him without locking on his own, thick eyebrows and overgrown facial hair that had little to do with the virus in his veins. “You ain’t from around here, are y’all?”

The wolf raised one of those thick eyebrows at him. “Alabama, actually.” Not too far out. “I’ll have a bourbon, neat. Can I use your phone?”

Persistent little puppy. Oikawa set the glass down and reached for the nearest bourbon bottle. “In a hurry?”

“Just to make that phone call.” His voice kept slithering up Oikawa’s spine, caustic, tumble-ready. The wolf looked into his alcohol, a frown sitting between his brows.

“What seems to be the trouble…” The wolf’s uniform (navy blue, a good color for him) had a nameplate stitched on it. “Hajime?” Hajime ran a finger around the rim of his glass, gaze flicking over Oikawa’s face, never meeting, glancing off to the side. He’s _good_. “I.?” he appended to his question.

“Iwaizumi,” he recited a moment before a blink and a flinch. Oikawa reached for the bottle again.

“You wouldn’t think they’d need to use an initial,” he commented as he poured, pressing the cool glass to his hot mouth. “I don’t imagine there are many Hajimes in Alabama.”

Iwaizumi’s eye twitched. “I’m the only one I know.”

Well, he had always been the only Tooru. Oikawa hummed and lifted his glass. “Oikawa Tooru. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes crinkled with his little chuckle as he tapped his glass to Oikawa’s. “Yoroshiku.” Oikawa knocked it back, not even a drop against his real thirst. Iwaizumi followed suit, throat working so that Oikawa’s unnecessary breath caught. He traced his teeth with his tongue and leant on the bar for moral support.

“Now that we’re drinking buddies,” he said, fighting the tension in his chest, “you gonna tell me why you’re darkening my doorway this lovely evening, puppy?”

Iwaizumi smirked and filled the hole in Oikawa’s heart with fire. “Blew a tire on my truck maybe two and a half, three miles west on I-10.”

Oikawa hummed, refilling their glasses. “Hoping to call a cab?” he ventured.

“A tow truck, actually.” So he wanted to get the hell out of Dodge and never look back, huh? Not while Oikawa had him.

“Mmm, you sure? If you left now, you might make it to Homochitto.”

Oikawa watched Iwaizumi weigh his options, fascinated by the play of his thoughts on his face. It wasn’t like reading a book, like with Kindaichi, but also not Matt’s brick wall, either. Iwaizumi was subtle but defined, finger tracing the rim of his glass as he frowned, wrinkled his nose, worked his jaw side to side. Oikawa forgot his poured drink. Didn’t he have a pack to run with? Why was this lone wolf, so stable, so grounded, so far away from any origin point Oikawa wouldn’t know about?

Iwaizumi’s face set. “Can’t just leave my rig on the road,” he said. “If you let me use your phone, though, I’m sure I could get myself a lift, and I know a few of the guys up by Homochitto that wouldn’t mind having me.”

Oikawa raised an eyebrow – that part of Mississippi was governed by the bears. Not usually the friendly type. “I take it you were headed there already?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “Just came from there. I was on my way to Houston.”

“ _Houston?”_ Just what _was_ this wolf? “I was under the impression that Houston was predominantly feline-controlled.”

Iwaizumi rolled his glass along the bar by the bottom rim, then shrugged. “I’m not picky about who I run with.”

Oikawa smiled. “And good at making friends.”

Iwaizumi’s lips parted on a predator’s smile. “I’m a friendly guy.” He stood, knocking back the last alcohol drops, and tossed some crumpled bills from his pocket on the bar. No. “Thanks for the drinks.”

 _No_. “I can get your truck to Houston,” Oikawa said, bald like he never is.

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at him. “And?” His eyes locked, dark and full. _Aah_.

“I can give you anything you want,” Oikawa purred, leaning in, eyes wide. Iwaizumi’s pupils dilated, feeding on what he wanted to see in Oikawa – smoke and lanterns, an interesting combination. He wanted Oikawa – that wasn’t unusual. But, his mind called to Oikawa _himself_ , not the picture of the seductive vampire but something beyond, something dark, untouched by mankind. What a remarkable fellow. Iwaizumi shuffled in the few steps he had taken back, mindless consumption overtaking him – pulse racing under his chin-

Iwaizumi slammed a hand on the bar, making them both blink. His hand fumbled at Oikawa’s shirt – grazed the pressure point – grabbed it – yanked him forward so the bar cut into their stomachs. His face was turned to the side, skin red as he growled, “I want to make a fucking phone call.”

Oikawa stared, then laughed, the string between them breaking. He still felt a little shaky, but he brushed it off to the brush with death. “You’re going to break my heart, Iwa-chan.” Iwaizumi shoved him back by the shirt, and he stumbled, head still swimming.

“Your mind games won’t work on me.” Oikawa shook himself out while Iwaizumi was distracted with holding his ground. He leant on the bar, kicking the shelf below with his toes, cheek in his palm. He had met a lot of difficult weres in his afterlife, but this one was something else.

“No, they won’t.” Oh, but Iwaizumi _burned_ for him. It had been so _long_. “An illusion’s no good when what you want is right in front of you.”

Iwaizumi’s jaw worked – he could hear his teeth grinding. “I think I’ll take my chances with your pack.” _Uh-oh_. “That’s who I smelled on my way here, right? Up in the wildlife refuge?”

Oikawa plastered on his smile again. “I don’t think even your diplomatic skills are a match for my bloodhounds.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he repeated like the insane fool he obviously was under the seemingly rock-solid front, turning to the door. _Idiot_.

“They’ll kill you, Hajime.” Iwaizumi stopped, back still to him. Oikawa scrubbed a hand down his face. He _hated_ the taste of this explanation in his mouth. “The reason you smelled wolves is because the leader of the pack doesn’t turn back except for the week around the new moon. He’s completely rabid, and the others are too afraid to go against him.” Iwaizumi’s fists clenched at his sides, scent spiking. At least Oikawa didn’t have to spell it out for him.

Iwaizumi exhaled. “Are the others-”

“No.” He would never insult his pack like that. “And for what it’s worth, he was… a _gift_.” He grimaced, anger surging up to bite at Kyoutani, at Iwaizumi, at the silver lodged between his ribs – but none of this was _their_ fault. “From the Bishop.”

Iwaizumi’s shoulders sagged with a sigh as he turned back to him, eyes fixed on the barstools. “How big is your pack?”

“Seven wolves total.” He traced his finger through the leftover condensation from their shared drinks on the bar, sour bile rising as he thought out loud. “I could mark you as a pack member, but even if I did, without an introduction I think Mad-dog-chan would tear you to shreds.” Lovely shreds, but it would be such a waste of a remarkable mind that Oikawa had only gotten a sniff at.

“What’s your offer?” Oikawa looked up at Iwaizumi’s swishing mouth, the moon’s arrival radiating off him. For the first time in months, he wanted it to rise.

“I’ll get your truck to Houston and no one will know it wasn’t you who drove it. And I’ll give you a room where you can ride out your shift, and safe passage until sunset.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your price?”

“One pint.”

Iwaizumi blinked, almost looking up. “A pint,” he parroted, hollow. “Of my blood?”

Oikawa nodded, muscles thrumming. “From the vein, or no deal.” He held still while Iwaizumi stared at his shoulder and mulled it over, not even tapping his foot.

A sigh. “Show me the room.”

“Of course.” He circled the bar and directed him to come. Iwaizumi followed like a good boy.

The hallway from his bar to his room stretched on, a carpeted gap standing between Oikawa and the most promising smell of his life. He kept his eyes forward even as Iwaizumi’s scalded his back, like a sun Oikawa had almost forgot the feel of. A werewolf and a sunburn, all in one night. Full moons were such interesting times. Maybe this- no. No use in building up sandcastle hopes over a stranger who didn’t even know his title.

The silver in his chest throbbed, but he was used to ignoring that by now.

The hallway ended, and Oikawa opened the door to his room, striding across the hardwood as Iwaizumi took it in – the heavy drapes, the lace and coffinwood, the dripping chandeliers. He always forgot the first impression. Iwaizumi snorted behind him. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a movie guy.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Oikawa said with his nose in the red-tinged air, crimson velvet under his fingers. He parted the curtains over his lockbox, taking the key off his neck and sliding it free. “This key opens the lock from both sides,” he said as he tossed it to Iwaizumi, “and it’s the only one.” Well, besides the one probably lodged in Kyoutani’s intestines, but that didn’t count. He pushed the door open and gestured Iwaizumi in. “Ladies first.”

Iwaizumi propped his fists on his hips. “Age before beauty.”

 _Ugh_ , this _asshole_. “Is that a question?” he asked in his sweetest tone, but didn’t let Iwaizumi answer before ducking into his lockbox. Iwaizumi was on his heels, looking around with the critical eye of someone who spent too much time in concrete dungeons. The perils of the modern werewolf. Oikawa couldn’t decide if he wished he had bleached the place or if it would have seemed odd without the old blood stains at the drain. Iwaizumi stood at the threshold, pushing a hand on the frame. “How’s the door frame?”

“I’ve had the door dent but never seen the frame give.” And wasn’t _that_ a night. “And the concrete is reinforced. You’d snap your neck on it before you broke through.” He grinned through the weight of his experience, right foot crossing behind the left as Iwaizumi stepped in and to his own left. “Of course, if you’re worried, I could always chain you up.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Too bad. You’d look good on my wall, Iwa-chan.” He passed in front of Oikawa’s manacles – _so_ good. Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow.

“I take it you don’t have any qualms about mixing business and pleasure.”

“If there’s no pleasure in it, I want no business with it,” Oikawa recited. Step over step, end over end.

“How do you want to do this?”

“Well, you should probably start by taking your clothes off.” Iwaizumi blinked, but his feet didn’t falter. “Unless you’re hiding a spare set of clothes somewhere, I assume you’d rather not turn in the ones you’re wearing.”

Iwaizumi’s curious look fell to a flat stare. “I’ve got plenty of time before moonrise. I think I’ll make it.”

What precious innocence. Oikawa chuckled. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed. “But you have. I take it you have a taste for werewolf blood?”

Oikawa was salivating at the mere mention, his overdue injury pounding for it. “It has its charms.”

“They say, for a vampire, it’s like dropping acid.”

“They say a lot of things,” Oikawa bit out, pushing the door shut, lock clanging. Iwaizumi blinked a few times, but his posture stayed the same, ready, low. Anticipating. Responsive.

“Why only one pint?” he asked, and Oikawa was too keyed up to lie.

“Because if I’d asked for more, you would have said no, but once we get started, you’re going to beg me not to stop.” Iwaizumi’s face cracked into a smile, a reflection of Oikawa’s own thirst, own hunger, own starvation. They honed in on each other, the old stains and cold air fading out into the deep brown of Iwaizumi’s disconnected eyes. Oikawa could feel his heartbeat in the hollow room, pulse pushing around what he wanted. He _wanted_.

“You must spend a lot of time around wolves,” Iwaizumi growled, breaking Oikawa’s concentration. Oikawa smiled in return.

“I like to watch.”

They lunged together, lock, break and spin. Iwaizumi’s thick arms weren’t just for show – if Oikawa didn’t fight back, he would be a dog toy slumped in the corner. But he never planned on not fighting back. “Why not go to your pack for blood?” Iwaizumi asked, a drive down a gravel road after midnight. Oikawa circled him, watching for any contact flicker to pull him off the dance floor and into the fire, but Iwaizumi remained resolute. He was the best thing Oikawa had ever met. The pack would love him.

“I’m sure you’ll be surprised to hear they aren’t very happy with me right now.” Well, not recently, in any case. They weren’t impressed that he made Bishop-rivalling decisions without consulting them first. Hopefully this one wouldn’t dig him deeper in that hole. He stepped straight through their spiral and laid a palm over _Hajime I._ , flicking the top button on his work shirt open.

Iwaizumi stilled, eyes trained on Oikawa’s chin. He rumbled, the gravel night drive coming to an end and parking at home. “But are they too stupid to have noticed, or are you hiding it because you’re afraid they’ll attack you?” He mirrored Oikawa’s hand on his chest – clenched his fingers in – _No_ -

He slammed Iwaizumi down, hands pinning his arms back, surging pain and hunger making him spit his fangs out, his heart wound _screaming_ , almost whiting him out. Iwaizumi sprawled on his back, still as calm but alert as when he walked through Oikawa’s door, the only sign of excitement his blown pupils and flared nostrils.

“They say werewolf blood has healing properties,” he commented like it was about oysters being an aphrodisiac.

Oikawa snarled. “ _They_ should learn when to stop talking,” he spat around his fangs.

“I want a token of yours to grant me safe passage through the state,” he said, still calm and even, “and to meet with your pack on the next new moon. For that you get my silence, and enough of my blood – one pint at a time, at my discretion – to heal yourself.”

A lifetime supply to a dying man? There was some irony in here, but Oikawa was too strung out to dig for it. He laughed instead, bitter in his teeth. “Then you’re going to be in my service a long, long time, puppy.”

“Show me.”

Oikawa considered him, the honest stare – the kind that kicks obstacles away instead of working around them. He rested a hand on Iwaizumi’s neck, heart beating through their skins. He pressed his thumb into Iwaizumi’s throat. “I could kill you,” he thought aloud, tracing the delicacies before him.

“Are you sure?” Muscles bunched under him, just in check. He didn’t plan on not fighting back, either, no matter how docile he presented.

He pushed Iwaizumi’s head aside with his fingers without resistance, the smooth expanse of his neck exposed with barely a change in his scent. When was the last time a meal was this willing, this consenting? Oh, he wanted a taste of what free will savored like. “Let me drink and I’ll show you.”

“Show me and I’ll let you drink.” Pertinent mutt, but, fair. He tilted Iwaizumi’s chin back with two fingers, licked his teeth, then let go, other hand still keeping the dog down as he fumbled with his shirt buttons. He didn’t bother to finish before shrugging it aside to show what Iwaizumi had already felt out. He was deathly familiar with the open hole to his heart, but Iwaizumi traced the puckered edges with a reverence that-

“Another gift,” he said, snapping the thought off, “from the Bishop.”

“Silver?” Iwaizumi whispered, thick fingers skipping sparks around Oikawa’s skin.

Oikawa nodded, once. “Barbed arrowhead, right next to my heart.” Iwaizumi shot back – nice to know _some_ things got to him. He could feel the damned thing scraping around in there with every shift. “Turns out it’s a surprisingly practical and efficient way to put down a rival.”

“Fucking politics.” And if _that_ didn’t sum it up. He hummed as Iwaizumi’s fingers trailed away – as he offered himself to the wolf with the red roses.

Oikawa dipped in, following the blood flow with his nose – there was a drizzle in his spring woods now, dripping through the canopy to water the detritus. “You smell like rain,” he breathed. Iwaizumi gasped under him, chest heaving, weaving fingers into Oikawa’s hair. Tugging. Oikawa moaned and savored these few seconds, tasting, testing, sampling-

Yanking. He growled; Iwaizumi kept him from biting distance as he asked, “How long will the marks last?”

Damn him. “It’s too bad you asked.” He traced what he could reach with his tongue. Iwaizumi growled, not human at all, so Oikawa snapped back at him, teeth clacking on empty air. “If you were human, they’d be gone by morning. For you, maybe a few months, depending on how rough you like it.”

A puff on Oikawa’s bared shoulder. “Not on the neck.”

“Unless you want a bruise that’ll last twice as long, I need an artery.” He spread his hand wide over Iwaizumi’s chest – disguised the grope as opening his work shirt. “Your wrist will work, or your elbow.” The buttons fell open to reveal Iwaizumi’s black undershirt. He pushed the work collar aside to expose a bare shoulder, fingers trickling down as he bent in to whisper, “Or if you really want to make sure no one sees it…” He stuck a finger between Iwaizumi’s belt buckle and the button of his jeans.

“Nice try,” Iwaizumi snapped, pulling him away by the wrist.

“I was only trying to be discreet,” Oikawa whined.

“I’m sure.” He made Oikawa sit up so he could shrug off his work shirt, throwing it away, muscles shifting. Oikawa watched the arms get exposed, more skin to mark, easy blue veins pumping. _Aaah_.

The arms shifted to hide those from him, reaching behind his head. _No_. “Stop.”

Iwaizumi’s lip curled. “I don’t want to get blood on my-”

“Shut up.” Iwaizumi’s eyes lock on his for just the second time, eyebrows drawn. Oikawa’s focus narrowed to the tiny blood vessels around his irises – no, those won’t _do_. “Don’t move.”

Iwaizumi stilled, arms still up. Oikawa reached for one, turned it back to view the easy blue, singing to him. White noise filtered through his head, leaf litter crunch. His skin tasted like dew from broken buds, like moss between his toes. A spring surging _just_ under it. He moaned and dove into it, mouth first.

Something was wrong. Something was right. Something was _different_. Even when he bit other wolves, it didn’t feel like this, like he wasn’t just extracting his physical lifeforce but his real one, unspooling it and finding it iridescent. He swam deeper, the bottom of the spring under his tongue – algae and rough rock and wet dog. He tugged at the stones, tonguing for its release-

“ _Fuck_.”

It flowed over Oikawa like sulfur bubbles, hot rotten eggs and rainbow bacteria. He sucked it in – it was Iwaizumi’s wolf, but it was _more_ , and he could never get enough. He drank, riverwater mudding into a backyard lake, wolves – parents and a puppy – splashing overhead. The crystalline overlay of his prey’s memories settled over him like a favorite blanket. He swam up, faces sliding by, shifters of all breeds, humans, others.

He crested the surface, liquid still surging in his mouth. He was in a pool in the wood Iwaizumi smelled of, still in bud, leaves that never fell in the autumn pushed out by the new growth. He climbed out of the pool, dripping red water, and laid a hand on a tree for balance. The sulfur sap rushed to his touch, flowing into him and filling all the empty cavities Oikawa forgot he had. He closed his eyes and swallowed, the calm of the forest pushing at him – orange alarm at the silver in his pointless lung. Yes, _please_ -

A cool breeze dusted across his newly-barren back. The illusion shattered as his shirt fell around him, trees splintering as Iwaizumi’s face came into focus, pinning him to the decay of the forest – the concrete of his lockbox. Before he could stabilize his vision, something _dug_ at his chest, the dull death flaring to life. His ears rang – he was screaming in the metallic pain.

“I’m not trying to kill you,” Iwaizumi’s forest-god voice echoed, “but I might if you keep moving.” It cut through, and Oikawa stopped his struggle, the real world condensing around him. It was just Iwaizumi in a concrete cube, kneeling over him, wild hair a mess and gold eyes focused on Oikawa’s exposed chest as his fingers felt around, each fidget a flame. “Don’t move,” He growled through his fangs. Oikawa could only watch the concentration painted between Iwaizumi’s overgrown eyebrows, the tip of his tongue caught between his still-flat incisors, until he covered Oikawa’s open mouth with his forearm and ordered him to drink.

He bit as he was told, the forest flooding back, wrapping him against the serrations grinding through his ribs. Moss and lichen enveloped him, a downpour drenching him and filling his mouth. He wanted to cry out, but the iron water weighed him down, roots at his waist – kaleidoscopic pain and memory and dappled sunlight-

And it’s gone.

True and false images swirled together to form the devil of his life, the steaming silver arrowhead that was _not in his flesh anymore_. Iwaizumi’s steady eyes stared from behind it. “This is my token.” Oikawa nodded, lips parted. Iwaizumi threw it away, cursing, nursing his scorched fingers. Oikawa watched him, felt the hole in his heart closing up with the melting force of Iwaizumi’s blood. The forest faded into the trees, withdrawing into its secret clearing and leaving Oikawa barren in the fields. Naked under the force of Iwaizumi’s _miraculous_ presence. He swallowed the last trickles in his teeth.

“Is this how you always make friends?” he pushed out through a tremoring jaw. At least no breathing meant his voice was stable. “Random acts of heroism?”

“I keep my promises,” he growled.

A laugh cracked out of Oikawa, almost insane. “Who _are_ you?”

Iwaizumi huffed. “You could at least try to remember my n-”

Oikawa caught the rest of the word with his mouth, yanking Iwaizumi over him to explore this new cavity. Iwaizumi’s gravel road rumbled, blood and spit intermingling between knife teeth. Oikawa navigated, Iwaizumi on top but so responsive, so receptive, to his guidance, rolling in the pleasure with no pain. There had been enough of the latter. Iwaizumi’s weight settled firmer over him, Oikawa wrapped around him, limb over limb, to roll together. Iwaizumi responded in kind, a drop of blood catching between teeth and tongue – a leaf falling from a maple tree. Oikawa groaned and shook the tree for more greens. Could you have sex with a tree? Only one way to find out.

Oikawa used his leverage to shove up and back, cradling Iwaizumi’s skull against the concrete before tugging at his undershirt, exposing the furry chest exacerbated by his turn. He ran his fingers through it, coarse and curly, down to the belt buckle that kept _getting in the way_. Iwaizumi shifted between his knees – shucking off his shirt – as he popped open the jeans, black underwear peeking out. A large hand fell on his thigh. “You could at least buy me dinner first.”

Oh, right – human customs. Light glinted off Iwaizumi’s fangs, and Oikawa grinned and laughed. He didn’t need to be a mindreader to know what he wanted. He bared his neck, eyes shut against the attack. “Help yourself.”

Teeth sunk into an embrace, Oikawa pressed firm to Iwaizumi as he was bitten in return – it had been such a long, _long_ time. He sighed at the pinpricks, such a relief after the agony.

The forest doesn’t so much creep up on him as tackle him, a howl ripping through the leaves, trees bending with the packsong. Oikawa gasped, wind sucking it away as it goes. “What was _that_?”

Iwaizumi just gripped him tighter, claws in his back, and kept on, Oikawa buffeted by it, branches knocked down, directing him back to the spring’s pool he once emerged from. Something looked up at him from under the surface. Oikawa’s hair stung against his face as he reached for it, with his teeth-

And he was under, floating next to it, something without eyes and only presence. It – it’s Iwaizumi – slid fingers over him, prodding, asking. Oikawa ducked his head and consented. It dug its fingers into a hole in his chest and held on, pulling on something other than an arrowhead. Oikawa swallowed spring water that tasted like sulfur and wet dog, their two kinds mixing. It licked at him, each tongue scrape a promise – warm fur, gravel roads, starless nights, old first-growth trees. Iwaizumi smelled like pine sap under his nails, sneaking out after midnight for a secret hunt, fireflies in his hair – he smelled like _home_. But Iwaizumi had never had a home, not as an adult, this Oikawa knew. Those faces slid by, multicolored and fascinating, but like flickers of a facet, gone by the next moonrise. Oikawa sank in to the molars – a lifetime of this, of never setting two feet down on an earth that wouldn’t hold his weight, someone so grounded yet uprooted. He needed more, couldn’t get in deep enough, so he pulled it up. It obeyed his call, tilting back, floating up to crack open – _Tooru_ -

He sucked away as Iwaizumi gasped in his ear, water draining down. “We have to stop,” he breathed.

“Do it,” Iwaizumi growled.

 _Oh_. Oikawa drew Iwaizumi away, hot breath escaping over Oikawa’s cool skin. “You don’t know what you’re asking.” Iwaizumi stared at him, pupils wide, slow blinking. It wasn’t new to see such taken eyes, but the power thrumming under them set Oikawa’s stomach roiling. He scratched Iwaizumi’s scalp, and his eyelids fluttered. “If you keep drinking, you’re going to become my thrall.” What a creature to become such a thing.

Iwaizumi laughed, throat sore and gurgling. “Don’t pretend that’s not what you want.” Red smeared across his jaw, Oikawa’s heart’s blood dripping from his lips. “I know how badly you want to chain me up and point at your enemies.”

A sudden, vicious picture of Iwaizumi ripping Ushijima’s throat out flooded through him like the forest, but he dashed it away. “I don’t think you’d take well to a leash,” Oikawa said. There were no fences in these woods. He burrowed into Iwaizumi’s hair, taking it all in. “I want you willing or not at all.”

Iwaizumi kissed him, bruising and simple. Oikawa tightened his knees around Iwaizumi’s hips, sliding his hands down Iwaizumi’s bared back, leaves floating in the hot springs and not burning on contact. Usually, Oikawa consumed them, and not just in a literal sense. Usually, encounters left others drained, his presence overwhelming them and making them run away to safer harbors. Iwaizumi just bit back harder and plunged straight into toxic water.

He pulled back to breathe, dog breath in Oikawa’s nose. “My wolf is already yours to call,” he admitted, butting foreheads, “and if you don’t realize it, you’re a fucking idiot.”

 _God_. “Hajime,” Oikawa said, a call and release. Iwaizumi jerked against him, back snapping, more of his wolf crawling out of his skin through his eyes, dark to gold, claws tearing at Oikawa, at the floor.

“Fuck.” Oikawa’s hot springs – he had never been so aware of it, but the visualization was firm in his head now – boiled as Iwaizumi writhed under him. “Fuck, _please_.” Oikawa smiled, licked his teeth, but Iwaizumi cut him off, lip curled. “I don’t care how pretty you are, if you say it again before you take my pants off, I’ll claw you in your smug, shitty face.”

Maybe another time. He spread his fingers in the almost-fur of Iwaizumi’s chest, laying him out. “You think I’m pretty, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi growled and cracked pavement with his fist – paw. Oikawa stripped him down, unwrapping his present as he begged under him, “Please, _please_.” Iwaizumi under his jeans was just as picturesque as Iwaizumi over them. Oikawa ran his hands over thick leg muscles, bowstrings for hamstrings, so hot under his skin. He bent down for a taste; Iwaizumi arched into it. “Motherfuck, I swear to God, if you bite my dick, I-”

 _Maybe another time_. He hummed and sank down.

He could feel Iwaizumi’s hazy eyes fixed on him, but more importantly, he could feel Iwaizumi’s blood just a heavy hair from his tongue, just a few breakable layers away. The vessels dilated, overheating, Iwaizumi’s scent more like a musk now. Iwaizumi’s heavy lids tracked every dip of his head, body unable to settle down but in constant twitching motion under Oikawa’s hands, change bursting his seams. He was almost ready – _now_.

He snatched Iwaizumi’s inner thigh in his teeth, drinking in the heady blood of a shifter mid-turn. The trees were howling again, summer thrusting out of every pore, excruciating, exhilarating. Oikawa breathed deep-

A root flew up and kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying out of the woods to crash against the wall, wheezing. He coughed, swallowing the last of his drug of choice – licked the last drops from his bottom lip. Iwaizumi writhed across the room, the dredges of his turn shooting fur up and realigning limbs. Oikawa watched as the wolf settled over Iwaizumi, tail shaking out, paws in the air. He braced himself for the startled aggression, but Iwaizumi stayed where he was, eyes closed, panting, tongue lolling out the side. Oikawa crawled closer, sliding the last few feet on his shins into Iwaizumi’s side. His wolf was almost the same size as his human form, a uniform earth-brown, like the dirt under Oikawa’s toes in his forest. Oikawa buried his hands in it, momentarily disoriented when it was fur instead of soil – right. He scratched his fingers through it as Iwaizumi stretched, exposing more of his belly with a huff. “You’re a big boy.” Iwaizumi play-bit at him, but there was no malice in his gold eyes. Oikawa stopped scrubbing, hands framing Iwaizumi’s rib cage, tilted his head at Iwaizumi’s level gaze. He licked a scratch on Oikawa’s arm – new, must have happened when he got kicked away. Oikawa scratched under Iwaizumi’s chin into his ruff. “I’ve never seen anyone so calm after a turn.”

Iwaizumi twisted around to lie on his belly, then sit up, rubbing against Oikawa’s face and tucking under. Oikawa’s wide eyes stared at the far wall – if he had a heartbeat it would be hammering – and he held him back, feet sliding from under him to the side, leaning on Iwaizumi’s bulk. “Where did you come from?” he asked the air. Iwaizumi huffed and nuzzled into his shoulder. His scent was different than his taste, not the hallucinogenic immersion, but a photograph of that place, sepia-edged, static. Iwaizumi squirmed before he could get lost in it, curling up around Oikawa, a breathing fur rug. He barked; Oikawa looked down to see him settling his snout on his paws, eyes half-closed. Worn-out little puppy, huh? Oikawa laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll let you sleep.”

He tried to get up and leave him be, but Iwaizumi stopped him with a bite on his nice pants, growling. Oikawa raised his eyebrows. “Or not?” Iwaizumi rolled enough to expose his soft stomach again, his rumble an engine purr through the floor. Oikawa stared – what now? They were done with his end of the deal, so-

A laugh escaped him. “Oh my God, you want to _cuddle_.” Iwaizumi’s teeth showed, but Oikawa went to his knees before he could process being offended, burrowing into Iwaizumi’s fur like he hadn’t been able to do in _ages_. Iwaizumi burrowed back, breathing evening out. Oikawa closed his eyes, breathing deep, each inhale bringing him a few steps closer to the Iwaizumi woods. He wants to build a house there, set up a lean-to under a dogwood, but he could settle for another walk through. He couldn’t quite reach it – just a little closer –

He didn’t fall asleep, but he did zone out, only snapping back to reality when fluff got in his mouth. He spat it out – somehow he had worked up to Iwaziumi’s scruff, teeth extended and ready over Iwaizumi’s sleeping neck. He shook it out, dizzy world spinning harder, and shoved away. Normally he had few qualms in a little bit of nonconsensual bloodletting, but not _this_ time. Not with Hajime.

He got up, sliding out from under Iwaizumi’s cling in stages so he didn’t wake up – although Oikawa suspected that an earthquake couldn’t wake him up tonight. He stood and stretched, scabs pulling and muscles aching – oh, but his heart felt _fine_. He breathed just to enjoy how it didn’t pierce when his lungs expanded, arms outstretched, head tilted back. _Thank you._ He could never repay Iwaizumi for his random act of heroism.

Well, he knew how he could start to try. He slipped out the door, closing the lock soft behind him, and crossed to where he had left his cell phone by his couch, flipping it open and scrolling through his minimal contacts to the T’s, tapping his toes as it rang a few times before it picked up.

“ _Jesus, Uncle Tooru, why you always gotta call at fuck o’clock in the morning?_ ”

Oikawa laughed. “Now Takeru, what your mother have said if she heard that language from your mouth?”

“ _She’d probably pat my back and give me a cookie. What do you need?_ ”

Oikawa rolled his shoulders back with a groan. “How do you feel about going to Texas tonight?”

* * *

By the time Takeru had snuck out of his foster parents’ house, crept over to Oikawa’s hotel, and set off in search of Iwaizumi’s truck “two and a half, maybe three miles up I-10”, Watari and one of the town vampires with a tire shop on his way to meet them (Watari because Oikawa called him the _normal_ -werewolf way, the tire shop owner because of a promise of a drink with Oikawa at some later date), it was almost dawn, and Oikawa was wiped. After fumbling his number into Iwaizumi’s phone and texting himself (a few times) to reciprocate, he stumbled through leaving a note and food for a snoring wolf. He had never noticed before how little normal-people edibles he kept around. He needed some real friends. He threw off his confining clothes and climbed on the first soft thing he found – his couch – as the sun rose at the fringe of his awareness.

He tripped through faded dreams of long strips of bark wound around blue and gold, of petrichor and ichor, until the world rumbled around him like a pleasant avalanche. He struggled to match it, sundamp nerves singing for their connection.

“Hajime?”

The rumble condensed to a face, dark and set, wet hair hanging over steady eyes, no longer the gold of his dreams. He smiled anyway, snarling his hand in bangs. “You’re all wet.”

Iwaizumi laughed under his palm, uncovered eye narrowed. “Go back to sleep.”

How could he sleep and miss _this?_ Was he going to miss this? For how long? He frowned. “You’re coming back, right?” he asked, rolling on his back, committing this to memory with eyes and fingertips.

A grin bloomed under his touch. “Apparently I have a cosmic injustice to right,” he said, repeating Oikawa’s were-blood fever self-texts from earlier. His face heated – oh. That was a yes. He curled a smile Iwaizumi’s way, who held it for a moment, wrapping his fingers around Oikawa’s wrist to pull it away from his face. He glanced down at Oikawa’s bare chest, the puckered star there. He laid a hand over it, smile fading. “How’re you feeling?”

Like there was any room for anything other than relief. He laughed and stretched, reveling in the lack of twinge between his ribs. “Like I’m not dying for the first time in six months.”

“Six _months?_ ”

Oikawa snapped to at his tone. He flapped a hand, trying to be flippant through the daytime haze. “An exaggeration, Iwa-chan. No one could survive-”

“Liar.” Oikawa’s hand froze in the air as he blinked at Iwaizumi’s dark gaze, concern lined between his eyebrows. “Don’t lie to me.” _Hmph_. Oikawa wrinkled his nose and looked away from this honesty incarnate. Iwaizumi lifted Oikawa’s chin to kiss a particular spot on his jaw, a brush of lips that would have left him breathless. “Don’t hide from me,” he growled, the syllables rocking through Oikawa as he moved to cover Oikawa’s mouth with his. Oikawa moaned and held him in by the hair, but Iwaizumi pushed him away with a gentle hand on his sternum. Oikawa blinked his eyes open to find Iwaizumi watching him, waiting. “I’ve seen you, Oikawa Tooru. I _know_ you, and unless I’m very mistaken, I think you know me, too. So let’s make a point to be honest with each other, okay?”

Oikawa stared at him as his features didn’t shift, didn’t budge, standing in his lonely way and kicking him in the ass to knock it off. When was the last time someone had stood up to him like this, no hesitation or fear with all the knowledge of what he could do? Probably not since he was a human. A smile teased its way to life. “When you realized what I was, the first thing you did was turn your back on me,” he murmured, eyes fluttering over his perfect picture. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on in my life.”

Iwaizumi’s face swam before him, not the hallucinating kind in the mental hot springs, but in the unfocused blur of dawn pulling Oikawa back. The sepia blob bent closer to kiss the corner of Oikawa’s mouth. “No one’s ever been able to call my wolf before,” he admitted, tucking the secret there. Warmth pressed against Oikawa’s forehead. “You’re the only person it’s acknowledged as an equal.”

Oikawa could feel it purring even now. He reached up to pet it. Iwaizumi shuddered over him as it groaned, leaves rustling, a warm nettle breeze shifting through both of them. Iwaizumi’s breath huffed against Oikawa’s neck. “Please tell me you can feel this, too.”

Oikawa curled his hands in it as a response, the moss damp between his fingers, ivy stretching between them. Iwaizumi cooed like a puppy, a warm swell answering in Oikawa’s own chest. “I can call all the wolves in my pack,” Oikawa said to himself as he burrowed further in, the illusion almost as vivid as last night, lifetimes away from the photonegative impressions of his pack filed away in his head. “But this is new.”

Iwaizumi grunted, ivy tendrils tightening. “What about this?” A broad hand spread over Oikawa’s bare chest.

The geyser from last night shot up, the tide to Iwaizumi’s full moon. Oikawa gasped, back arching to meet it. “New,” he panted. “ _Very_ new.” The forest in his palms shone with a flash of sunlight. “I thought I was hallucinating last night,” he mused, because he was. “But this…”

“Let me show you.” Oikawa was pulled off the forest floor only to be sucked back into the scene, but it was different than last night. He wasn’t alone here, a tree falling without witness. Warm fur surrounded him, a living blanket that sheltered him – he never knew how _cold_ he had been. He pulled it closer and opened his mouth to eat. He burned to overheat in it, like he never needed to breathe or see or drink anymore as long as he could stay wrapped up in this place stamped with _home_. Cotton and fur textures mixed together in his arms, the colliding impressions only making sense to his half-asleep mind, dream state rationalizing this intensity.

The fur feeling burst forth in a surge of iron tang – Iwaizumi drew away, licking red from his lips. Oikawa’s eyes closed on the picture, hands clutched at a (cotton) shirt. “You should probably take your pants off immediately.”

Iwaizumi’s breath gusted over him. “You’re half asleep. I don’t even know how you’re awake at all.”

Oikawa panted a laugh. “No rest for the wicked?”

“You must not be so bad, then.” A rough hand moved Oikawa’s hair out of his face so a kiss could drop on his forehead. He whined, and the mouth there smiled. “You wouldn’t want to fall asleep while I’m fucking you, would you, Tooru-chan?”

It was the hottest sentence ever said to Oikawa and all he had the energy for was a long moan. “Not fair.”

“Get some sleep.” The hand cupped his jaw. “I’ll call you the next time I’m going to be in town.”

“You could stay.” Oikawa didn’t beg – he never begged. “Until sunset.”

Another gust. “If I don’t get back to Houston soon, a lot of people are going to start scouring the road looking for my body, and I don’t want to bring them to your doorstep. Not until I’ve had a chance to explain in person.” A rough, humored grunt. “And as much as I appreciated the cookies, if I don’t eat some real food soon, my muscles are going to start to atrophy.”

Oikawa moaned and fumbled to stop the flow of words from Iwaizumi’s sensible mouth with his fingers. “There’s nothing less sexy than logic, Iwa-chan.”

The traitor mouth kissed his palm. “You look cute with freckles,” it mumbled, completely derailing any argument Oikawa might have had. He forced his eyes open to burn the tender look in his eyes into his brain before Iwaizumi stood, Oikawa’s hand falling like a rock back to his side. He could feel the weird representative of himself bubble on the side nearest to Iwaizumi, just so damn _happy_ he was there.

“You’re going to come back?” He _never_ begged.

“I’m going to come back,” he answered, and the geyser let out a jet of sulphur. Iwaizumi grinned. “As long as you promise not to put any more shitty emojis on my phone.”

Oikawa wanted to smile, but the sun was just too high. He stretched and sighed. “There’s no purer form of expression than kaomoji…” He yawned, the lid falling over boiling water. He sank into darkness, Iwaizumi’s chuckle chasing him there.


	2. Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {A/N: There's a lot of dream imagery and whining in this one. Luckily for y'all it's only half the length of Shannon's half. [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/carriecmoney) [tumblr](http://carriecmoney.tumblr.com) [playlist for this AU](https://open.spotify.com/user/12127943082/playlist/7xsKlcAn4ZBnYLGogt9qFF)}

“…He smells funny. Don’t you think he smells funny?”

“He’s been smelling funny for months. Geez, _two_ of them?”

“Something happened here last night besides them and it’s time for him to _wake up_ and tell us.”

“Might need another wheelbarrow…”

“Issei, stop worrying over the dead people and help me get the boss awake.”

“Sprinkle some holy water on him or something.”

“I want him to talk to me, not kill me while his skin boils off.”

“ _Fine._ ” Oikawa’s half-asleep equilibrium was distorted by a weight sitting down beside him and shoving his shoulder so he sprawled on his back. “Oh.”

“What?”

A fact rubbed against Oikawa’s mind – he should probably wake up now. He rubbed his face, yawning, blinking his eyes open to find Matt and Makki, the primary members of his pack, hovering over him, looking like he had come back from the dead last night. He smiled at them, still bleary. “Good evening. Sleep well?”

“Oikawa.” Matt’s nails dug into Oikawa’s skin as he swallowed. “What’s going on? What happened last night?”

Makki froze with his nose in the air, eyes wide. “Why was another wolf here?” Matt’s eyes widened, grip tightening.

“Ah.” Oikawa stretched and sat up, the pleasant burn of a good night licking up. “Well, I guess I had an – unexpected guest last night.”

“No _shit_.” Makki sat behind him on the vacated pillow to bury his face in Oikawa’s neck, the once-familiar impression of a mountain field in full wildflower bloom poking at him. Nothing compared to the immersion in the Iwaizumi woods, but it might be a bit sharper now. “Holy _fuck_.”

“Did this ‘unexpected guest’ fix your heart, too?”

“Yes,” Oikawa and Makki answered in unison. “He still has it,” Oikawa added, dazed and relaxed in Makki’s hold. He was sniffing Oikawa’s hair now; Oikawa opened himself up to the olfactory rub-down. Makki mumbled curses against the back of his neck as Matt traced fingers over the new scar.

“He took the arrowhead?”

That was a simpler answer. “Yes.”

“Who is this guy? What does he want?”

“Nothing. He was just lost.” Oikawa smiled, sleep-haze replaced with a Hajime-daze. “We – met, he helped me out a little, and I sent him on his way.”

“Issei, we got a problem.”

“No shit, our boss fell in love with a complete stranger overnight.”

Oikawa opened his mouth to protest that one, but Makki shook his head, arch of his nose in the cavity under Oikawa’s jaw and ear. “Not just any stranger. I’ve smelled this shifter before, once, in passing.” He propped his chin on Oikawa’s shoulder, arms constricting around his waist. “Call me moonstruck, but I’d swear on my life he’s the wolfborn.”

Matt’s hands stilled where they had been inspecting Oikawa’s healing scratches. “You’re yanking my chain.”

“I’ve crossed his trail before, up in Arkansas. It’s not a scent you forget.”

Oikawa frowned. “What are you talking about? Iwa-chan’s a what?”

“Not ‘a’, _‘the’_.” Makki pulled away, hand on Oikawa’s back turning him to sit proper on the couch. Matt slipped across the room to Oikawa’s dresser, but Makki braced both hands on Oikawa’s shoulders so he focused on his light eyes, freckles stark on washed-out skin. Whispers of dark curls and disembodied headiness brushed at him, but he ignored it as Makki said, “You just got yourself in a _lot_ of trouble, boss.”

Oikawa blinked. “Huh? Hajime isn’t – sure, he was pretty strong, but…” Matt came back with a shirt and pants, working Oikawa’s limp arms into sleeves before he jerked out of his reverie enough to stand and hop into the jeans. He expected to be shaky, but he felt _great_ , almost to a pain point. Like he just wanted to fall asleep in the sun and enjoy the burn. He hadn’t felt sunshine in decades, had forgotten its warm fingers, but that was the only thing comparable to the searing memory of Iwaizumi against his front. “He was… heavy,” he ventured, “but he wasn’t _famous_. We just…” His hand fluttered over his shirt buttons, smile hidden behind the collar. “Fit?”

“Oh _hell_ no.” Oikawa turned around. Makki’s face was buried in his hands while Matt was limp against the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. Makki moaned again, “Oh _no_.”

Oikawa scowled and propped his hands on his hips. “Either y’all tell me what’s got y’all in a tizzy or I’m finding myself a new pack.”

“I always thought the wolfborn was a freaky myth-rumor thing,” Matt marveled, ignoring Oikawa, “and here I am, stuck with a boss who’s _mated_ with it.”

Oikawa bristled. “ _Excuse_ me? There was no mention of-”

“I can smell it.” Matt wrinkled his nose. “ _We_ can smell it. It’s not like it’s hard, even when you’re not looking for it.” He rubbed his temple, eyes clenched tight. “And I thought life sucked when we just had the mad dog to fight.”

“Well, he’s not here _now_.”

“So where is he?”

“Just east of Houston.” Oikawa blinked a few times. “How did I know that?” Matt and Makki exchanged a look, but didn’t answer. Oikawa frowned at the wall behind them. “Also, don’t call him the wolfborn, he thinks it’s a stupid nickname.” Makki barked a laugh into his palms, shoulders shaking. “How do I _know_ that?”

Makki wiped tears from his eyes. “Probably for the same reason I know Issei’s most ticklish spot is right _here_ ,” he said, punctuating the sentence with a poke in the middle of Matt’s stomach. Matt yelped, then slapped Makki’s shoulder. Makki stood, shaking his head. “This is too ridiculous right now.” He kicked Matt’s ankle to get him to stand as well, then jerked his chin at Oikawa. “C’mon, let’s get those poor souls in your lobby out of here, then we can break it to the pack that we’re gonna have a new alpha by the next full moon.” Oikawa glared at them, but they just left him behind to find shoes and his dignity.

His cell phone was on the nightstand by his bed. When he was sure they were gone, he pounced on it, flipping it open. There were a few texts from Yahaba with his customary overbearing status reports, one from Takeru saying he was in Houston until the truck was returned, then one a few hours later saying he and Watari were on their way back, a few requests from city vampires that he deleted. Three texts from ~*Iwa-chan*~ early this morning about movies.

No missed calls.

* * *

Oikawa tried not to tell his pack at the traditional post-full moon dinner party that evening about his houseguest the night before. Just like they ferreted out his Ushiwaka-caused wounds six months ago, though, they knew something was different before he walked in the room. At least he was more prepared to answer their questions and pretend like he knew what the fuck was going on after a few hours of being awake. Watari, just returned from his foray to Houston, was still in recovery from spending three wolf hours in Iwaizumi’s truck cab, laden with his latent scent, so he believed Makki’s assertion that he was ‘the wolfborn’ without protest. The others were less inclined to accept it, but the obvious pep in Oikawa’s step and lack of silver tang make them agree to give him a chance next time he came around. For the first time in months, there was laughter at his dinner table.

Oikawa definitely didn’t keep his phone on the table the whole time just to be ready when Iwaizumi called. He _definitely_ wasn’t upset when it wrapped up, everyone heading their own directions around midnight, and it still showed 0 Missed Calls. He dallied around the hotel, cleaning up six months’ worth of distracted neglect and bloodstains, throwing out the empty wrappers in his lockbox and hating himself for mooning over them.

Dawn was tickling him when he had to accept that there wasn’t going to be a call tonight. Not like _he_ cared. He was the Deacon of Baton Rouge, the head vampire for the entire parish, and he did not _sulk_ after some one-night stand with shifting eyes and a steady smile. They didn’t know a thing about each other, despite the bits of information that seemed right at his fingertips when he needed them. Sure, he had promised to call, but maybe he was one of those guys who felt you had to wait a certain amount of time to temper any impression of desperation that could bleed through. Oikawa wasn’t, but Iwaizumi _could_ be. (He wasn’t.)

He curled up on his couch around his phone, frowning at it until dawn overcame his senses.

* * *

_Hajime. Hajime, Hajime…_

The shell of a memory burned under him, blue and gold inside tree bark, paperwhite and rough. Oikawa ran hands over it, over the hair and thorns and lichen, sun scalding his front. He dug a knee into waist-deep mud and fought it to make the bark form into something with limbs and a heartbeat, something he could feel. _Hajime_.

It gasped under him. Too many fingers carded through his hair, skin against his, damp and _skin_. Oikawa pushed up, skin shifting through the holes in his palms, like sand, _Hajime_. He tried to hold on, but every time he managed to clutch it close, it would sieve away, like trying to catch wind or water with a butterfly net. He chased with nails and teeth, his only weapons in this wasteland. It flickered in and out, radio station static from two hundred miles away. _Hajime. Hajime…_

But it flickered still, then sputtered out, leaving Oikawa bereft in a lifeless cave in the wood. He curled in on himself and found gold threads sprouting from a red star on his chest. He followed their trail - they shot off into the distance, into the west, vanishing into glittering points. They vibrated where they connected with him, hurting him, singing to him. _Hajime_. He tried to get up to follow their path, but the ground sucked his legs in, pinning him thigh-deep. He reached out to hold on - _Hajime, Hajime-_

He pulled. Red drops flew up in the air where they sliced into his palms, filigree razor wire, but the three inch ease made their connection ache a finger less. He hauled with all his strength.

_Hajime_

* * *

He woke up at sunset, shoulders and arms aching, curled in a tight ball around his phone. He flipped it open. No missed calls. He shut it, sat up, then threw it with all his strength against the far wall. (He had a Nokia for a reason.) He pinched his nose, took a deep breath, then crossed the room to pick it up again and check his text messages.

There were a few Kyouken status updates from Yahaba that he skimmed and ignored - unless it was an emergency, that was _his_ problem. More from the city vampires that he deleted without reading. One from Takeru telling him to look out for the two hundred dollar Build-A-Bear charge on his next credit card statement. Apparently there was a limited edition wolf one in stock in the mall by Iwaizumi’s dealership, and with a few hours to kill, they had made one for each member of the pack. Children.

A new message popped up while he was skimming through the pictures of each one, hand over his smile.

From: +*Mattsun*+  
You should come over. We need to talk about a few things.

That was probably a fair point. He tapped off a _be right there_ , then left in the hunt of pants.

He was distracted enough by the new hole in his chest, not physical but just as painful, just as prominent, that he didn’t pretend that he drove. Five minutes after Matt’s text, he was knocking on their door, tucking his shirt in as he waited. Makki answered and stepped aside to let him in with a nod, sniffing as he passed.

“So he didn’t show up today?”

Oikawa stiffened. “ _No_ he did _not_.” Makki grinned; Oikawa turned his nose up and stalked past him to the kitchen table. Their overlarge shepherd, Jaeger, shoved his way into Oikawa’s lap when he sat down across from Matt and his tea. Oikawa scratched his ears absently as Makki sat down next to him so they could watch him over mugs. Oikawa forced a smile. “Not going to offer me a drink?”

Matt’s level look flattened. “Not yet.”

Makki put his mug down. “Is it really gone? The _thing_?”

Oikawa’s fingers twitched in Jaeger’s ruff. “Yes.” He scowled down at the table. Because it was Makki and Matt, who had been with him since this parish was handed to him, he admitted, “But it feels like he just… replaced it.” Jaeger pressed his nose into the crook of his elbow, whining. “Like there’s more missing than just silver.”

“Ah.” Matt sat back while Makki banged his head on the table. “Well that’s a thing you’re going to have to deal with on your own.”

Oikawa pouted at a snickering Matt. “You’re absolutely no help at all.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” He sipped his tea again. “But that’s not what we really wanted to talk about.”

“Right!” Makki popped up. “Yuutarou!”

Oikawa tilted his head (away from Jaeger’s attempts at affection). “What about him? He not paying rent?”

They both shook their heads. “No, he’s an okay roommate, for a kid, although he loves to complain about shit tip nights,” Makki said. “But it’s time for you to wake up and _do your job_.”

“While you were off in your silver-laced lala land, he’s been recovering nicely from the whole Bishop-Kageyama affair,” Matt explained, swirling his teabag around by the tag. They both ignored Oikawa’s argument with their dog as a matter of course. “He hardly wakes up screaming anymore, and he barely flinches when one of us shows teeth.”

“But he’s not there yet,” Makki picked up as they traded who was drinking. “He needs his stuff back. _You_ need to track down Kageyama and get it.”

Oikawa pulled a face to hide how his skin crawled. “So _demanding_ , Makki-chan.” Jaeger had finished his climb into Oikawa’s lap, uncomfortably draped over his front so his chin was tucked under Oikawa’s, tail bapping back and forth between his knees. Oikawa wrapped his arms around his ribs and tried to suppress the image of the last dog that had cuddled him like this. Matt refilled their tea while he thought. “Can’t someone else do it? _Anyone_ else? I thought I would be rid of Tobio-chan in full by now.”

Makki kicked him under the table. “You’re the only one who has a snowballs’ chance in hell of finding the kid, you know that.”

“The pack is… helping,” Mattsun drawled, putting more sugar in Makki’s tea. “But he was too young, too much happened too fast. No normal teenager goes from smoking pot in the woods to being the plaything of a Jesus-old fairytale, then a chew toy for an untrained fairytale, without some fallout.”

“We understand why you were a little shit to Kageyama.” Makki squeezed a lemon slice into Matt’s mug. “But that’s not an excuse to be a little shit with our kid, too. He did nothing wrong.”

Oikawa hid his frown behind Jaeger’s ruff – still, now that he had got what he wanted, the anger just wasn’t there. They were right, although he would never tell them that. The flavor of what the God-forsaken Bishop had made him do to Tobio still sat sour between his molars, a bone chip he couldn’t dig out. The kid himself wasn’t _evil_ , he would admit under extreme duress, but the situation surrounding him – the drain of a new siring, the loss to Ushiwaka’s will, the ‘gift’ of Kyouken, the silver parasite inserted while old eyes watched under wrought iron in Charleston green – meant that he would never _like_ him, much less tolerate being in the same room as him. As Tobio was just as much an unwilling participant in Ushiwaka’s living chess games, they got along much better when they didn’t have to get along at all.

But. They were right. He had adopted Kindaichi into his pack, and as the newest member, he had yet to be extended a welcome gift. His personal belongings, left behind when he escaped Tobio’s hungry clutches and ran right into his pack’s territory, would be the perfect choice, but did it have to be so _hard_? He fluttered his eyelashes at them between Jaeger’s ears, locking eyes with Makki and extending a hand on the tablecloth. “I don’t supposed I could get one of you to do it for me?” Makki’s pupils dilated, leaning in-

Matt calmly reached across the table and poured hot tea on Oikawa’s outstretched hand. He yelped and yanked it back, almost dislodging Jaeger as Makki blinked it away. “Knock it off,” Matt bit out. “We’re done doing your job for you, we’ve been doing it for months.”

Oikawa wiped his hand on his jeans and sucked on a finger, bottom lip out. “I thought you were supposed to answer my every whim.”

“Only when we feel like it, and you’ve used up your whim quota for a long time, sapsucker.”

“Rude.” Oikawa adjusted his grip on Jaeger so his sharp shinbone didn’t dig so much into his thigh. “When Iwa-chan calls me back,” he mumbled, “I’ll go.”

Matt and Makki nodded. “I’ll make sure he holds you to that,” Makki said with a grin. Oikawa sneered as Makki drained his tea. “Now, about that drink.”

Oikawa perked up, and Makki snickered. Matt’s eyes crinkled as they stood together, Matt collecting the tea gear. “You boys have fun.” He dumped the kettle in the sink, keeping hold of his mug as he turned and asked, “Jaeger, wanna go for a walk?”

Jaeger perked up in exactly the same manner as Oikawa to the word ‘drink’, scrambling down and almost knocking Oikawa off his chair. Makki was still laughing when Matt wrangled Jaeger into his leash and was hauled outside, still holding his tea mug. Oikawa sulked and pushed and kicked Makki to the designated bloodletting couch, sitting him down on it and throwing himself in Makki’s lap. Makki buried chuckles in Oikawa’s hair, arms falling in a loose hold around Oikawa’s waist. “I’m not even sure I _want_ your stinking blood,” he pouted even as he mouthed over Makki’s neck. Makki trailed off in a hum and tilted his head to the side.

“Sure you don’t.” Oikawa blew cold air down the V-neck of his sleep shirt, then wove his hands into thin red hair and sank in.

He had thought he knew the blood of his pack like his own, their types, their antibody count, their landscapes, dreams, desires. After Iwaizumi, even this was different, more immersive. His previous impressions were just glances through a window; now he was walking through Makki’s alpine wildflower field, bugs humming at his calves, spots of sunset cloud like milk in a peach tea. Oikawa breathed deep the larkspur air, bent down to pick a cosmos and eat it –

A wind tore at him, petrichor and ichor and sulfur. He turned his face to the west and met it head on as it ripped at his hair, his skin, grass stinging his knees – _Hajime-_

He gasped, back on Makki and Matt’s couch in the still of Baton Rouge at midnight. Makki panted under him, eyes round when he sat back to look at him, color high on his cheeks, neck still dripping.

“Well that was… different.”

Oikawa licked a drop away before it could stain Makki’s shirt, whining when the wind pinpricked at him. “Maybe I _can’t_ have your stinking blood.”

“Was that your wolfborn? It smelled – it _felt_ like him.” Oikawa nodded, planting his face on Makki’s shoulder. “No wonder you’re so hooked on the guy, that was _heady_.” Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. The wind was still rattling around in his skull, angry storms whipping his hot springs into a frenzy. Makki shushed him – he was still whining, like a child who fell off their bike – and held him closer, tucking his legs to the side to cradle him more than straddle. “Shh, shh, I’m here. I know it hurts, but you’ll see him soon.”

“ _I don’t like this_ ,” Oikawa hissed, arms around Makki’s neck. “I don’t like being so – addicted. I can’t do anything anymore, I’m just stuck, waiting, waiting, I can’t go after him, I can’t _do_ anything-”

“You _could_ suck it up and call him first.” Oikawa let out a long whine at that. Makki laughed against his temple. “But I know that’s not your style.”

“I don’t like it.” He shoved his bare feet between the seams of the couch cushions, the cheap canvas scratch grounding him. “I just want him back here and I _hate_ it.”

Makki hummed, a nonsense tune, running a hand down Oikawa’s side. “You miss him. I could feel that, a little, before you left.” He huffed. “Y’know, I didn’t know you had that wolf in you, too.”

“I didn’t, either.” He sniffed. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“I’d bet Issei’s life your wolfborn didn’t, either.” Makki tried to relax his hold, but Oikawa just clung tighter. “Maybe when you talk to him and he gets to know me, we can try again.” Oikawa didn’t _whimper_ , but he got pretty close. Makki sighed.

They were still sitting like that when Matt got back from Jaeger’s walk. He didn’t say anything, but just let Jaeger off his leash and came over, sitting beside Makki and hauling Oikawa’s legs in his lap, burying his nose in Makki’s neck to commune. Oikawa opened his arms wider to include Matt, holding both of them in, ash and birch closing in around the wildflower clearing. Jaeger whined and jumped up on Makki and Oikawa’s other side, curling up so his back was pressed to Oikawa’s shoulder. Oikawa sighed and let them try to fill the hole in his heart.

* * *

In the morning, the dreams closed in.

This time, _Hajime_ wasn’t an incorporeal figment of bark and sunshine, but a human, a real _thing_ , thrashing about under him with the moon spilling out of every pore. Oikawa lapped it up, salt and sweat and berry juice and _Hajime_. There was a second of wholeness scattered in a minute of separation, but each bite was a drop on Oikawa’s parched tongue. Not enough, not _enough, Hajime, Hajime…_ Furred skin under his palms. Oh, he remembers this sensation.

This time, _Hajime’s_ real face is on top of his real body, eyes clenched shut and teeth gritted. Unnoticed in their night before was the red scarring around _HajimeHajime’s_ throat. Oikawa mouthed at it, increasing bloodlust sated in this dreamscape, inspecting it with the most sensitive part of his body. It felt like rope burns under his tongue, like an old choke collar cinched too tight. _Hajime_ sputtered and whined with every new sear he found, only ceasing when Oikawa licked them, like a dog tending their wounds.

This time, _Hajime_ didn’t flicker away so much as he was _yanked_ away, under him one moment and gone the next. Oikawa cried out, reaching, but the razor gold wire had strung out to nothingpoints once more, cave walls shrinking in. He looked down at his hands, still a crisscross of scars from the night before (only as real as the rope burns on _Hajime_ ) and decided it was worth it. He wrapped them up again and heaved.

_Hajime!_

* * *

Something smelled different when Oikawa woke up. It took a moment for his sunset-sluggish brain to pick it up, but when he did, he threw back his sheet and sat up hard.

 _Hajime was here_.

He ran without a care for clothes down the hall and skidded across the polished wood into the lobby, but it was lifeless. He had been here, _and he had left_. Had he even called? Oikawa hadn’t checked his phone.

He was about to run back and do that when he saw the displaced object on his check-in counter. He stalked over and tore the tattered navy duffel bag open – pictures, clothes, shoes, a pocketwatch, two wedding rings on a chain. This was _Kindaichi’s_ stuff, but the old napkin tucked into the zipper was all Iwaizumi. Oikawa unfolded it with trembling hands. _I’M NOT YOUR FUCKING ERRAND BOY_ , written in gold Sharpie on a Popeye’s napkin. A tangle of every kind of thing snarled in Oikawa’s chest until it settled into ‘indignant rage’. He balled the napkin up and threw it in the trash behind the desk – dove for it, pressing it to his face and inhaling. It smelled like Iwaizumi, but also a few other things, hot leather of a car, lingering fried chicken, expected scents. But. There was a desert tang, a featherdusting of moonlight. At least two other shifters had handled this before.

He burned it in the fireplace along with one of Kindaichi’s blood-ruined shirts.

* * *

When he came back to the lobby a few hours later, clothed and collected, Kunimi was sitting at the front desk, playing Pinball on the computer. Oikawa perched on the counter next to him and chirped, “Look who finally showed up to work!”

Kunimi didn’t look away from his game as he shot back, “Look who’s finally wearing a shirt not reeking of his own blood.” He scowled at the screen. “What, too soon? I guess I’m forgetting the part where you _died_ for six months because you were a _stubborn peabrain_.” He emphasized the last two words with vicious keystrokes.

Oikawa gaped, then huffed. “Well! _Someone’s_ in a cranky mood tonight!”

“ _Someone_ has had to deal with everyone’s cranky mood while trying to run this shell company of a hotel for five and a half months longer than I wanted.” He lost and slammed the keyboard. “You know how hard it is to call a repairman when we’re only open at night?”

“Perils of the job, honey.” He frowned. “What maintenance calls were you making?”

Kunimi sighed and dug in the desk drawer, holding up a filled-out feedback card. “Please stop flirting where I can see, read, or experience it.” Oikawa frowned and took the card, reading handwriting that matched the cinders of the napkin.

 

**How would you rate your stay?**

**1              2 ~~3~~              4              5**

(Alright.)

**What could we do to improve your stay?**

(- fix the hot water heater

\- continental breakfast. Or at least coffee)

**How would you rate the quality of your room?**

**1              2              3 ~~4~~              5**

(Uncomfortable, but very secure.)

**Why did you pick us?**

(It was there.)

**How would you rate our service?**

**1              2 ~~3~~              4              5**

(Too involved.)

**Would you come back?**

(Only if there was a movie with dinner.)

 

“There’s not much I can do about breakfast with this budget,” Kunimi said, harping on an old tune, “but I’ve been _trying_ to get the boiler man out here. Too bad they close at six like _normal_ people.”

Oikawa frowned. “Where did you get this?”

“Exactly where I was supposed to find it. In the suggestions box.” He wrinkled his nose. “I just wanted to see if the spider in there had her eggs yet.”

“Freaky. But okay.” He read it again, then a third time for good measure. “’Alright’,” he muttered.

“Right? This place is a dump. We should never get over a two.”

“Excuse you, I provide _excellent_ service.”

“Right before you drain them dry. Because you’re a _peabrain_.”

He sighed. “Never going to get over that, huh?”

“Not until Yuutarou does.” Okay, _ow_. “Maybe now we’ll get some real customers in so we can remodel this tacky spiderweb into something people would want to visit again.”

“ _Remodel?_ ”

Kunimi glared at him. “Just because you’re immortal doesn’t mean your taste in interiors is.” He started up a new Pinball game. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have _new_ income instead of just a trust fund you set up for yourself sixty years ago?”

Oikawa pressed his hands to his chest. “And I thought you didn’t care!”

“I don’t. But someone’s gotta make sure this looks legit so I don’t have to go back to tending Matt’s clinic.”

“You’re so kind and generous.” He flipped his hair from his eyes. “You didn’t happen to be here earlier today, did you?”

“We’re _closed_.” He shot a side glare at Oikawa. “Why?”

“No reason. Just wondering.” He swung his feet as Kunimi jabbed more at Pinball. “I have Kindaichi’s stuff now, for your information.”

Kunimi jerked and lost the round. “ _What?_ ”

“My friendly neighborhood lone wolf dropped it off today. He wasn’t happy about it.”

Kunimi narrowed his eyes. “I _thought_ something reeked.” The desk phone rang, startling Oikawa – it _never_ rang. Kunimi sighed and took it off the receiver, handing it to Oikawa without even listening. “It’s for you.”

Oikawa scowled and took it, tucking it between his ear and shoulder. “Yahoo?”

“ _Oikawa! Glad I caught you!_ ”

Oikawa sighed and rubbed his temple. “Hello, Yahaba, and good morning. Do you need something?”

“ _Yes! The mangy mutt’s pissing me off growling for food –_ stop that!” he snapped. The distant rumble on the other side barked. “ _Have you fed recently? I could really use it or who knows what he’ll do_.”

Oikawa heaved a melodramatic sigh. “See, my sweet summer child, this is why you should come to pack meetings when I call them.” He crossed his legs and leant back on the raised counter, switching ears. “With the loss of Ushiwaka’s pesky little parasite comes the added benefit of no more pesky little dead bodies.” He twisted the phone cord around his fingers. “I can play my catch-and-release again.”

The distant howls of what wasn’t a dog kennel echoed for a long breath. “ _What_.”

“Isn’t that great? No more lives lost, no-”

“ _What?_ ”

Oikawa frowned. “Are you taking a _tone_ with me?”

A bitter laugh turned to hysteria, not quite swallowed when Yahaba choked out, “ _You’ve got to be_ joking _, Oikawa-san. Months you make Ken eat your evidence and now you just_ stop? _Cold turkey? I’m not sure you know what’s going on. Do you even read my texts?_ ”

“I peruse them.” He plowed on over Yahaba’s strangled cry, “I’m sure you can figure something out, because I’m not killing any more innocents for quite a long time. It’s deer season over there, yeah? Go bag a few bucks and get a new coat rack in the process.” He hung up, the plastic of the receiver cracking.

Kunimi didn’t look up as he commented, “It’s not deer season for a few months, Mr. Oikawa.”

“Oh, is that right? Good to know.” He hopped off the counter. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room, _not_ getting lectured by the people who are supposed to follow me blindly.”

“If anyone comes in I’ll be sure not to send them to you.”

Oikawa slapped a hand to his (aching, hungry) chest. “So rude, Kunimi! See if you get anything from me for Christmas!” Kunimi spared a hand to flick him off (and lost) as Oikawa flounced away to stare at his phone and hunger.

* * *

Oikawa never begged. He was never passive, always the agent on his own life, even when he was barely functioning. Nothing happened to him unless _he_ was doing it.

But when he fell asleep that morning, _Hajime_ was waiting for him. _Tooru_ , he breathed over his bubble skin. Oikawa let out a full-body shudder, ripples echoing around his cavern, as roots held him down, pinned him so blackberry brambles could grow up him, thorns stripped. Fruit burst against him like a wet mouth, staining kisses leaving purple streaks behind, the characters of his name in juice and blood. He did struggle, but dreamland paralyzed his muscles so he could only sink deeper into the red clay and let it consume him. The brambles twisted together and grew fingers, condensed into limbs and hair and a chest with a beating heart – _Hajime_ –

Oikawa gasped, satin under his back, and stared up into _Hajime’s_ gold eyes, his ceiling beyond them. He was brighter now, blue and gold streaming around him, bruises around his throat stark in the lighting. _His_ lighting. _Hajime_.

“How are you here?” he gasped.

 _Hajime_ blinked, glow flickering – snuffing out as he vanished, not even steam in his wake. Oikawa reached after him, but he was gone like a sunset, complete and cold. Oikawa sat up – was he awake or asleep? The empty pain behind his breastbone blinded him to it, screening out everything but the wrenching hole screaming _HajimeHajimeHajime_ until the name meant nothing but noise. He curled around it, digging at it, dizzy with loss. It wasn’t like the Ushiwaka wound – it wasn’t pain over something being there that shouldn’t, but something that wasn’t there that _should_. He was missing some vital organ ignored before, and he was losing the ability to function without it with each passing day.

He zoned in and out of consciousness, the sun putting him down and the pain waking him up, all concentrated on the one point. _Hajime_.

He fell into the cave where he lived, rough stone on his knees. The _Hajime_ -tether glinted off into the distance, like every night, and he just couldn’t _take_ it anymore. He reached out, with both hands, with everything he had, and wound his arms in the threads, streaks of fire on his dream skin. He hauled back like it was a million dollar fish, tears trickling down to mingle with the new blood and the hot water he was knee-deep in.

_HAJIME_

He still doesn’t know how long he screamed, how deep he was cut, how much of the spring was blood to water. He just knew that he pulled, and eventually, something popped, and _HAJIME_ was getting closer.

Feet stopped before him.

He pulled a last time, and the feet became knees, until string became hair. He sunk in, sobbing, so _close_ to the half to create whole he could scream. He could feel it slipping past his nails with every pass, throat raw, each slide a scrape on a chalkboard-

“Tooru.”

Oikawa’s hands clenched. Rough callouses cupped his jaw and tilted him up to look at gold-dark eyes, deep and soft, a cloud on a moonless night. The gold wire ended in a mirror spot in _HAJIME_ ’s chest, red circles radiating from the point. Red circled up his neck, too, savage scars from another kind of wire. Oikawa was too tied up to try and soothe them again. Unlike the previous nights, _HAJIME_ didn’t shift and spin before him, but stayed solid, coated in blue leaf.

“I couldn’t find you,” he said, but he _wasn’t_ , this was just a daytime illusion, a fancy daydream-

Hands tried to remove his from their stranglehold. He twitched, fighting with a _NO_. _HAJIME_ fell on him, knocking the fake breath out of him, and he wasn’t real but he was so _solid_ , spring rain in Oikawa’s nose. He fought, but he was overcome, their puzzle pieces just a jigsaw cut away from fitting. “Something’s _missing_ ,” he wept. “I’m alone. I don’t- It’s _missing_ , I’m _broken_ , I didn’t, you _took_ it, I-”

 _HAJIME_ shushed him, wrapping him up and squeezing him tight, face in his hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t know.” Oikawa whined, but _HAJIME_ over him was too much, ever so much. It felt like he had been searching for this for two centuries, not two days. “Tooru, you have to let go.” And it broke again. “I’ll come back to you, but if you don’t let go, I’m going to die, and then you’re going to feel like this forever, and I won’t be able to make it stop.” Oikawa screamed, but all that escaped his weak throat was a hiccup. Papered fingers ran up the dip of his spine. “You’re hurting me, Tooru,” he said, blood trickling between them. “I didn’t mean to do this to you, but I can’t make it right if you don’t let me go.”

Something buzzed outside of this cave that they made. Oikawa turned his face to it – ah. The real world. A real connection.

“What is it?” _HAJIME_ asked.

“Someone’s calling.”

 _HAJIME_ released him. “You have to answer it. That’s the deal, right?”

The buzzing persisted, making the borders of this cave-dream static. He floated towards it, the normal feeling of waking up dissolving the images of the dream-

A snag. He looked down at bubbling gold, pleading. “Please.” The wire sang in its bare foot of space. Oikawa saw the state of his own hands – worse, so much worse, _how_ – and broke the fingers of his death grip.

He blinked awake to find his cell phone almost ringing off the couch, still in the circle of his fetal curl. He fumbled for it, flipping it open and laying it over his bared ear. “Yes.”

“ _Shitting hell- is this Tooru? Dude, this isn’t fucking funny, whatever games you think you’re playing!_ ” Oikawa closed his eyes – behind the frantic voice he could hear a dog whimpering, the shifts of a struggle. “ _I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing to him, but you need to_ stop, _because I’m about half a heartfelt_ Hajime _away from having a big_ fucking _werewolf in my bed.”_

Bitter fluid surged in Oikawa’s chest. “ _Your_ bed?”

“ _Yes, in my bed, not that that’s any of your-_ ”

“ _He’s awake_ ,” a different, distant voice cried. “ _TK, he’s breathing, but I think he’s stuck_.”

“ _What?_ ”

“ _Tooru_.” Oikawa gasped like the arrowhead was being wrenched out of him again. ” _Please_.” The sound quality changed, the whimpering and whining louder, at least two other people there with what was rightfully _his_. Orange envy bubbled up, greed and wrath and all those other sins in deathly rainbow mess.

“ _He still can’t breathe_ ,” the more distant voice said, “ _His ribs are still-”_

“ _Tooru_.” Oikawa gritted his teeth, the precious metal between them constricting. “ _Not a dream. You have…_ ” A twist of the vice with an answering _crack_. “ _Hurting me, Tooru_.” Iwaizumi didn’t even sound human, something wild, something broken. “ _Can’t turn without you, can’t turn back – you won’t let me._ ”

“ _You’re killing him!_ ” the first voice yelled. _“Oh my God, you’re going to kill him._ ”

He could feel it, feel the steadfast wolf on their dual leash withering away. He curled his fist to his chest, hand on the phone threatening to break it, Nokia or not. He could save him, only he could save him.

“Iwaizumi Hajime, heed my call.”

The phone case gave with the tension on the string, plastic and silicon beads stabbing into his palm. He shook the pieces onto the carpet, wiped his hand on his sheet, and wept himself to sleep.


	3. Sinker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {A/N: Well it was a fun rush to write the last big chunk of this in like 2 weeks after working on this for a year and a half but we did it :') Art at the top is done by me! [tumblr](http://carriecmoney.tumblr.com) [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/carriecmoney)}

  
[tumblr link for art](http://carriecmoney.tumblr.com/post/167000737966)

He drifted through dreams of stormclouds with wire lightning, of petrified trees boiling in toxic mudpits, of howls and hunts and forest fires. Sometimes tails and gold eyes crossed his path, but mostly he stumbled through the wilds alone, no leaves in sight, just prehistoric river-carved caverns and raging weather.

A plunge into a geyser shocked him awake with a green flash and a gasp. Sunset was here, and so was Oikawa’s wide-awake consciousness – pulled back down, like an ocean storm trying to drown him. The water was made out of leaves, a tea sea whispering _Hajime,_ _Hajime, Hajime!_

He finally surfaced to an untouched room and his werewolf waiting at the door. He breathed it in deep, eyes still closed, feeling the regret and anxiety and _anguish_ rolling off Iwaizumi like steam. Well, he had steamed for three nights. Iwaizumi could steam for a few minutes. He dallied, tying his sheet around his waist for some form of modesty (not that he foresaw it staying on long, no matter which direction this confrontation went). He puttered around, straightening knickknacks and sheets and generally _not_ answering the not-knock at the door.

There was a knock at the door. Oikawa jumped, then scowled, resentment bubbling – who was _he_ to try and act normal right now? Well, two could play that game. Another knock, and Oikawa rang out, “Who is it?”

Iwaizumi sighed through the door. “ _It’s Hajime_.”

“Hah-jimmy?” Iwaizumi bristled, goosebumps rolling down Oikawa’s back. “I don’t think I know anyone named Hej-aimy.” He grinned as Iwaizumi’s irritation radiated out.

“ _If you let me in, it might jog your memory._ ”

The _nerve!_ “Oh, _my_ memory’s just _fine_. _I’m_ not the one who _forgot to call_.”

A thunk on the door, deeper and higher than a fist. “ _I’m sorry I didn’t call.”_

_Ugh_ , and he sounded so _sincere_ , the bastard. _Well_. “It’s not that hard, you know,” he pressed on. “In fact, your _‘friend_ ’” (he put in air quotes here that Iwaizumi couldn’t see) “managed to do it just fine. Or maybe you really don’t know how to use a phone? You were having _so_ much trouble with it the night we met, after all.”

Another deep sigh through the wood. “ _I just want to talk._ ”

“You know, there’s this amazing invention that was designed for the express purpose of making it easier for two people to talk to each other, but I can’t remember – what was it called? Oh right, a _fucking telephone_ ,” he spat out, pulling at his hair. His sheet was getting tangled in his legs – he threw it behind him, ripping it because he couldn’t rip Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi, who remained still and steadfast through his rant, strong heart pumping. Oikawa stomped across his carpet, pissed at Iwaizumi’s sincerity and righteousness and genuine compassion when Oikawa just needed to yell at something.

“ _If you want, I’ll go back out to my car and call you._ ” Oikawa froze – he had broken his phone that morning. “ _I’m not – that’s not a threat_ ,” Iwaizumi backtracked. “ _I’m not going to leave, I just want to talk to you, but if you don’t want me here-_ ”

Oikawa cut him off with a sharp “You should have called.”

“ _Yeah, I should have_.” Oikawa swallowed on a dry mouth.

“But you didn’t.”

“ _No, I didn’t_.”

“Why?”

Oikawa waited as Iwaizumi thought, toe tapping. “ _Because you’re the only thing in the entire world that I can’t run away from, and that scares the shit out of me_.”

“You sure as hell tried,” Oikawa snapped, temper flaring.

“ _Yeah. I did_.” And it simmered down. “ _You were right when you said I don’t take well to a leash, and after…_ ” His voice was still gravelly and low, but it was barely above a whisper, palm pulse thrumming against Oikawa’s door. “ _I felt chained. So I ran. It made it worse, for the both of us._ ”

It dawned on Oikawa like a summer sunset – he _hadn’t_ been going through this alone. He moved towards the door – stopped. “What happened to your neck?”

“ _What?_ ”

Oikawa ran his hand over his own throat. “Every time you came to me in my dreams, you had this awful bruise on your throat, like… rope, or…” He was pulled in, closer, trying to put his dreams to real words. “And this morning it was just… shredded, like something had clawed through it.”

Iwaizumi sucked in a breath. “ _I really-_ ” He cleared his throat when his voice cracked. “ _I really wasn’t made to be collared_.”

A shiver tore through Oikawa. “But you came back.”

“ _Because I’m yours, Tooru_ ,” he said, and the last of his resistance fell. “ _Whatever that ends up meaning_.” Oikawa struggled to make sense of that over the rush of that _Tooru_ , the heavy lean of Iwaizumi. “ _Come here. Please. You don’t even have to open the door, just. Come closer, please_.”

Names have weight, Tooru knew that, but he never knew his own could feel like a freight anchor hooked on his sternum. He followed Iwaizumi’s call, flowing into place mirror to him, hand and head pressed against wood like skin. It acted like a conduit, reverse to its nature, as their natural resources crisscrossed through the fibers, speaking like words and faces and eyes never could. Oikawa shuddered out a breath and closed his eyes, feeling the leaves of Iwaizumi’s trees bathe him, flooding into the yawn of his ribs. He could breathe again for the first time in three days. It overwhelmed him, filling him to his scalp with regret and pain and joy and ease and nausea and delight, muddy water of swirling emotions. He curled a fist against the door.

It took a while for unspoken paragraphs to withdraw to unwhispered words and Oikawa could have his own thoughts again. He licked his lips. “I’m still mad at you.”

“ _I’m not super happy with you right now, either_.” Oikawa opened his mouth to rebuff, but Iwaizumi continued, “ _Can we start over?_ ”

Oikawa’s mouth clamped shut. “What?” he asked, blinking the haze away.

“ _Look, I just._ ” A heavy breath. “ _Give me a chance to do what I should have done days ago._ ”

Oikawa scowled. “You mean, call me?”

Iwaizumi let out a surprised laugh that, even though it was at Oikawa’s expense, made him stutter. “ _Oh my God, seriously?_ ”

“It’s not funny!” Oikawa bit out, fighting the upturn of his mouth.

“ _You really aren’t going to let it go, are you?_ ” Iwaizumi was still laughing like an asshole, and Oikawa’s had quite enough of this blatant disrespect.

Oikawa fumbled with the door as he snapped, “No, I’m not, because you should have-” The door opened, and Iwaizumi was _there_ , rough and wild and flowers in his hands. They were tiger lilies, all the leaves and seeds still on, but fuck the plants. _Hajime was here_.

He held out the flowers like Oikawa cared (and some human part of him did). Oikawa’s mouth opened as Iwaizumi stared him down and said, “I didn’t have time to pick up a movie, but I read about this little theater in Baton Rouge that does midn-” God, why was he still _talking?_ Oikawa grabbed his waist and hauled him in, slapping the door shut so he could slam Iwaizumi against it, leaves crunching in his hand.

They crashed together, an unstoppable force and an immovable object, sharp teeth clacking. Iwaizumi’s exhale gusted down his throat as he wrapped thick arms around Oikawa’s neck, kissing him back as desperate as Oikawa. Something burned between them, filling Oikawa with a hearthfire cut from old growth forest and rotten eggs. He hooked a flower-free hand under Iwaizumi’s leg to hitch him up higher, just trying to get closer, deeper, bury himself in embers. Iwaizumi’s legs tightened around him, fabric textures of denim and rayon scuffing Oikawa’s bare skin. Under it all thrummed Iwaizumi’s blood, pounding like church bells just beyond reach.

Oikawa was drawn to it, following the flow of it down Iwaizumi’s jaw to the artery in his neck. Iwaizumi tilted his head for it, and it didn’t mean anything but it shocked down Oikawa’s spine anyway. Hands tugged at his hair, undecided. “We’re supposed to be talking,” Iwaizumi told his temple.

“I think we get along better when our mouths are otherwise occupied,” he sighed, jaw opening in dual meaning.

The fingers in his hair constricted. “That’s why we need to talk.” Sure, okay, but his blood pressure was singing a different tune. He hadn’t had anything to drink in three days, and beyond the heat in his belly was a clawing, a yawning. He licked his teeth. “Stop, Tooru.”

His name made him pause, even his hairs freezing in time. “I’m _hungry_.” Iwaizumi tensed against him, as on edge as Oikawa. He rolled his head back on the door, an intentional throat-bare now. Saliva welled up - but this wasn’t in their agreement. They hadn’t gotten to the neck-biting phase yet. And he still had crumpled lilies in his grip.

Carefully - they were still an Iwaizumi-gift, after all - he set them on the keystand by the door, then adjusted his stance so he could support Iwaizumi while he undressed him. Iwaizumi blinked at him, eyes unfocused. “What…?”

Oikawa hummed, staring at the buttons. “You don’t want me to mark your neck.” He kissed it anyway as he fumbled open the last few buttons and forced the cheap, unnecessary cloth off Iwaizumi’s body. When it was off enough, Oikawa pulled back to inspect - froze. Iwaizumi’s chest was littered with bright red scars, a many-pointed fragmented rising sun ripping through body hair over the dipped collar of a stretched-out undershirt. The scars shifted as his arm lifted. Stopped. Those hadn’t been there three days ago. Iwaizumi blinked his eyes open to see the delay. He tried to cover it up, but Oikawa caught his hands. ”Who did this to you?” he rasped.

Iwaizumi’s head hung, fists clenching around his shirt. “You did.”

If Oikawa had a heart it would have stopped. “What?”

Iwaizumi shook him off so he could shed both layers, the sun growing to a star. “I know I hurt you,” his voice said, floating through Oikawa’s head like steam. “I left you alone, and scared, and confused, and I’m sorry. I was scared, too, and the more you tried to pull me back, the harder I tried to run, and…” Fingers traced over red. “We need to talk about this, because you were trying so hard to bring me back to you that you almost killed me today. I know you’re pissed that I wasn’t alone-” For a minute his vision doubled into two more hands on his chest. “But if I had been, I would have suffocated or ripped out my own heart trying to get free.”

The hands still swam. He _shook_. “Who are they?”

The star sighed, and the hands coalesced into one set. “They’re the people that I went to when I was scared and lost and needed someone I trusted to help me put things in perspective.”

Oikawa’s chest cramped up. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“Don’t.” An entire full moon was crammed in that one word. “Don’t you dare.”

“What, I’m not _allowed_ to be _upset_ that you didn’t _bother_ to tell me you had a _boyfr-_ ”

_Wham_ , Iwaizumi reversed their positions, Oikawa slammed against the door, eye gold and canine teeth bared in Oikawa’s face, a stranglehold on his throat. “Don’t needle me about something you understand, Oikawa,” he spat around his fangs, panting.

Oikawa set his jaw, staring right back into his hated favorite color, still shaking on a skeletal level. “Put me down.”

Iwaizumi’s lip curled, and he tossed Oikawa to the floor, looming over him as Oikawa pushed to his elbows and rubbed at his throat. “You and I are just two strangers who hooked up in a seedy motel bar,” he growled, and the word that cut the most was ‘seedy’. “You don’t _get_ to be upset that I sleep with other people, or that I have a life that doesn’t revolve around you. _And_ you don’t get to pretend you’ve never put more than teeth in someone you’ve fed on.”

Rude. That doesn’t count. “That’s different,” he said in as level a tone as his abused throat could handle, watching Iwaizumi pace, hairs raised. “That’s _food_.”

Iwaizumi’s jaw clenched - he shook it out, took a deep breath. “That’s what you don’t understand, Tooru,” and Oikawa wished he didn’t feel a tug at his name. “It’s… _sustenance_ for me, too.”

“You don’t feed on sex,” he shot back.

“No,” Iwaizumi retorted. “But wolves are pack animals and I haven’t had a pack since I was ten.”

Oikawa blinked, biting his cheek. “I thought that was your choice,” he said, still staring up at Iwaizumi as he snarled his hands in his hair, eyes back to hazel and teeth back to human. The skin around his eyes twitched.

“Well, it wasn’t.”

Oikawa cocked his head. “Why, then?”

Iwaizumi’s pacing got a tighter course. “Because a ten year old can’t lead a pack, but a pack won’t follow someone that keeps losing to a damn kid.”

He was too hungry and strung-out for werewolf politics. He shook his head to try (and fail) to clear it. “What are you saying?”

“I’ve never lost a fight with another wolf,” Iwaizumi said, feet stilling as he stared at the carpet. “As part of my formal initiation into my first pack, they tried to outrank me, and not one of them could. I had to leave the next day because I completely trashed their hierarchy. When I was _ten_.” His face twitched, and he shook his head. “There are maybe a dozen shapeshifters from Richmond to Albuquerque that can touch me for more than a handshake without feeling physical pain.” His feet couldn’t stay still, all his concentration inward as he tore at himself. Oikawa was frozen, watching this wild man crumble them both with rumbling sentences. “Most of them are pair bonded pack leaders, because it literally takes two people to handle me, and I sleep with most of them on a fairly regular basis because they’re my friends, and I care about them, and because the lone wolf thing fucking sucks and I didn’t choose it, and what I have with them makes up for what I can’t have for keeps.” His feet paused, hands full of his hair, face hidden between his arms. He inhaled. “I don’t know what this is yet,” he exhaled, one hand gesturing between the two of them, “or what you want it to be, but I’m…” His arms fell to his sides. “We’re in it together, so we have to find a way to make it work. If you want to talk exclusivity, we can, but it’s… It has to be a _talk_. You can’t just demand that from me without knowing what you’re asking. It would be like me saying you can only ever feed on me again-” Oikawa shuddered - “but that I might not always be here when you’re hungry, and I might not always be able to let you drink your fill. You’d be asking me to sacrifice something huge, that no one person could make up for by themselves.”

Oikawa watched him as his breathing evened, agitation settling. It was too much to take in during one speech, that this person he knew the taste of lived under other tongues more than his, that he might be someone else’s favorite scenery, too. He waited until Iwaizumi’s face lifted to see him before he copied the waving gesture Iwaizumi made before. “I still don’t even know what _this_ is.”

Iwaizumi stilled. “It’s… You’re.” He looked away with a huff. “We’re pair bonded.”

Oikawa blinked, raising his eyebrows. “Isn’t that, like, shapeshifter soulmates?”

Iwaizumi’s lip curled, baring teeth. “It’s… something like that,” he admitted through a growl. “The human idea of soulmates is about finding your one true love. For us, it’s more than that. We’re two halves of a whole. Inseparable.”

It clicked with his three-day heartache, but his head still had questions. “So we’re… werewolf married?” he asked, even though he knew how Iwaizumi hated that word.

Just as expected, gold flashed with a snapped, “ _No!_ ” He scrubbed at his eyes. “Sort of.” His shoulders slumped. “But there’s no divorce, and it doesn’t have to mean love, or romance.” Oikawa’s throat tightened - Iwaizumi backtracked, babbling,”It _can_ , but it doesn’t, inherently. For some people it’s like marriage, for some people it’s just a partnership, or-”

Enough babbling. “Hajime.” His mouth snapped shut. “What do you want this to be?”

His head barely shook. “I don’t know.” He curled in, arms tight around his middle. “I don’t even know you, Tooru,” he breathed, arrested what was left of Oikawa’s heart. “And you, this?” He spun his wrist, looking around at Tooru’s red walls. “It’s everything I’ve spent my whole life running from.” He stuck his hand back in the crook of his elbow, the image of a stripped-down teenager asking his crush to prom despite the definition that shifted under skin with every move. “I don’t… date,” he mumbled. “I don’t even know how to be in one place, who one person, in a serious relationship, or…” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I want to make you happy.”

Aw, what a sweetheart. “The flowers were a good start.” Iwaizumi almost laughed, and Oikawa almost smiled. “And I would be overjoyed if you started calling me when you say you’re going to.”

“You know, you have a phone, too,” Iwaizumi pointed out, smiling back.

“And I probably should have called you, but God forbid I come off as needy.” Iwaizumi laughed for real. Oikawa held out his hand for help up; instead of hauling im to his feet, he knelt to kiss it, humor in the lines around his eyes. Oikawa’s mouth fell open as he was pulled to his feet and into Iwaizumi’s arms, sheet almost slipping to the ground before he caught the knot. Iwaizumi traced fingers over his face, dark eyes soft. He thumbed at Oikawa’s bottom lip, watched it shake. Looked up the four inches between their faces to make eye contact, _real_ eye contact. Oikawa saw a whole forest in his eyes before their mouths brushed. He gasped against Iwaizumi’s smile before Iwaizumi shuttered closed the forest and kissed him again, cupping his jaw. He mumbled into Oikawa’s mouth, “That theater in the city plays classic monster movies every Friday night at midnight. If you want, we could-”

Oikawa’s knees caved. “I’d love to.”

He felt Iwaizumi’s smile grow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, wrapping wanton arms around Iwaizumi to kiss him the way he wanted, trying to capture that through-the-door communication again, and he couldn’t seem to stop _fucking_ smiling. The pain and hunger and irrational rage from the last few days melted away like sugar frosting, because under it all, Hajime, was _here_ , in his arms, warm and hairy and growling.

Iwaizumi lifted him off his feet, so Oikawa locked them behind Iwaizumi’s waist, yanking Iwaizumi around by the hair to dive in deeper, growling himself as Iwaizumi squeezed him just as hard before yanking away to gasp, “Is all the furniture in here as uncomfortable as it looks?”

Oikawa flapped a hand behind him at his couch. “That isn’t,” he said before cutting off conversation again. Iwaizumi nodded as much as he could when Oikawa had his lip in his teeth, stumbling backwards to it, kicking sheets out of the way until he crashed down, Oikawa bouncing in his lap.

Oikawa laughed and tilted Iwaizumi’s head back, watching his smile bloom before he covered it with his own. Iwaizumi’s hands fell to his waist, down, up, around, all over, fire and electricity and all that crap. He grabbed Oikawa’s ass at last; Oikawa hissed and tugged at Iwaizumi’s belt to return the favor. “You’re so cold,” Iwaizumi’s voice drifted out.

Like he’s never heard _that_ one before. “Corpse-like?” he teased, tracing fingers up Iwaizumi’s stomach. Iwaizumi shook his head.

“Like you got caught in a storm,” he said, and Oikawa was _in_ it, old thunder sluicing down his back and warm wet fur on his front. “I want to warm you up,” that same floaty tone said. Oikawa blinked his eyes open to find Iwaizumi’s still closed, a vague smile on his face that would slay a lesser man. Oikawa sighed.

“There’s only one way to do that.” Those eyes blinked open, confusion wrinkling his forehead before it cleared. He pulled an arm up, baring the old puncture wound like a new tattoo, but Oikawa slammed a hand over it before it could hypnotize, shaking his head. “You really are like a drug, Hajime. I don’t want…” To forget, to immerse, to walk through some mind-forest with a glowing Hajime. He wanted _Hajime_ , in the flesh, real and pumping and dark-eyed. Iwaizumi nodded.

“Okay.” He swallowed. “Can we still…?”

Oikawa kissed him again, bringing the arm down to its previous spot as he educated Iwaizumi, “Vampire physiology 101: body temperature and blood flow may not be as expected, boners a hundred percent optional.”

Iwaizumi laughed into his mouth. “Okay, I’ll try not to take it personally.” They worked together to get Iwaizumi in the same state of undress as Oikawa, party-favor kisses dropped between them. “Lube?” Iwaizumi growled into his neck.

Oikawa’s brain scrambled enough to acknowledge the question. He flapped a hand around. “Under the couch.”

Iwaizumi adjusted his grip on Oikawa’s waist before dipping Oikawa back so he stared at the underside of his coffee table. He did _not_ squeak at _all_ as his world turned upside-down, a mouth on his abdomen as Iwaizumi went fishing. “I’ve got you,” he murmured like Oikawa wasn’t pulling half his hair out by the root.

“You’re gonna get kicked in the face if you’re n- _oh!_ ” The world righted into Iwaizumi’s grin and his dusty lube. Oikawa pouted and took it - tried. Iwaizumi gripped harder.

“Let me?” he asked, as steady as the night was long. Oikawa considered his gaze, but let him have it, earning a smile and a kiss to the jaw as a reward. Iwaizumi spread his seat, sliding Oikawa’s stance open over his lap. Oikawa melted as his thick arms held him, moving behind his back. Oikawa stuck his nose in the crook of Hajime’s neck, taking in the damp earth and iron and person smell gathered there. He nosed up his jaw to his hair, rubbing his cheek against coarse spikes. Iwaizumi gasped into his chest as wet fingers trailed down Oikawa’s back.

Oikawa wasn’t sure if it was the werewolf-marriage, how long it had been since he last slept with someone, or if Iwaizumi was just that damn good, but his body sang with every move his hand made, a melody he was a simple instrument for. He gripped Iwaizumi’s neck and shoulder for balance, single motions they made welding together into a whole dance that didn’t move too fast, didn’t move too slow, but at the perfect pace for him – for Iwaizumi. They operated on the same tempo, Oikawa could feel it in the sear of his skin and the hiss of his breath as he whispered, “God, you’re perfect,” into Oikawa’s sternum. A phantom of a filigree thread tugged at the words. Why were they still wasting _time?_

The lube was on the couch by Iwaizumi’s hip. Oikawa fumbled for it and squeezed some on his hand, getting it around that dick again, hot in his hand – God, it would be _blistering_ inside him. Iwaizumi slid his fingers out as he arched forward to take it in, a little – a _lot_. Iwaizumi growled a moan beneath his palms, eyes bright as they burned a trail up Oikawa’s chest to his face, hands at Oikawa’s waist trembling.

He rolled his hips once, twice, getting a rhythm going as Iwaizumi started to respond, shaky hands holding him steady as he leant in to run his mouth over whatever part of Tooru he could reach, his chest and wrist and neck and inside of his elbow, mouth running away from him. Oikawa couldn’t quite hear the whispers pressed there, but he could _feel_ them, the little notes about how perfect, wonderful, beautiful he was, and wasn’t it a laugh that _Hajime_ was telling him that? He watched him move, eyes blown wide, fluttering sweat shining in his low lighting – he would have to get more lamps in here, because anything less than perfect visibility of Iwaizumi at all times was a sin.

Iwaizumi’s eyes snapped up to his. Before he could do anything with it, Iwaizumi grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him down into a hard kiss, storm surging through Oikawa. He kissed back.

It was different than the last time, this walking in Iwaizumi’s woods. It was less hallucinogenic, more real; there were no visions of moss and vines, just something furry butting against something in him – his cave – and curling up at the door. Oikawa opened it, tilting Iwaizumi’s head to the side so he could feel fur on his tongue again, water from his hot springs flooding his veins.

The spring fell, satin under his back, a wolf above – a wolf below. Every thrust blurred the lines between them, concrete images dulling into shapes and smells and _Hajime_ all around. He could only moan, each time Iwaizumi’s nails dug into his shoulders sending his heels kicking into Iwaizumi’s spine, mouth open to whatever Iwaizumi had to give. Sometimes he blinked through Iwaizumi’s eyes, seeing himself as he was – scarred, freckled, writhing, a little puppy voice whispering _perfect_ over it all. He couldn’t keep up; he was _made_ for this.

They came in harmony, Oikawa inhaling Iwaizumi’s exhale. His sweaty fur coat fell on Oikawa, threatening to crush him but only comforting, ghosts of hands that were his and puppy-whispers clouding his thoughts far after he had usually run away. He felt… whole again, even as Iwaizumi slipped out. He sighed, hands in Iwaizumi’s hair.

“Not just my blood, then.” Iwaizumi nuzzled into the dip of his collar, smile traced in his sweat. Not Oikawa’s, never Oikawa’s – he had never missed sweating before this moment.

“No.” Iwaizumi’s hands worked over Oikawa’s thighs, working out the kinks as they fell from their too-tight hold around his waist. He kissed Oikawa’s chest, down between his ribs. Oikawa shivered. “Not just your blood.” Oikawa breathed. “So this is…”

“For keeps,” he pressed just below Oikawa’s heart (to the scar). He paused and looked up at Oikawa, face blotchy, eyes dark and wide. “If you want it to be.”

Oikawa had always been a pusher. He pushed, “What if I didn’t?”

The flash in Iwaizumi’s eyes, the jaw clench, broke Oikawa’s heart before Iwaizumi hid any more expressions in his neck. “You’d have a very, very loyal guard dog for as long as I live.”

Oikawa bit his lip on a giddy little laugh. “And if I say I do? What would you be to me then?”

Iwaizumi curled tighter over Oikawa, breath too hot on Oikawa’s cool skin. “A lover.” It _burned_. “A friend? A… partner? Whatever I can be, however we fit. I don’t know what this is yet, but… I’d like to find out, if you do, too.”

“I do,” Oikawa said too fast, hauling Iwaizumi’s face out of its hiding spot to see it for himself. “I’d be a fool not to.”

Iwaizumi’s throat worked, lips parted. “You mean that?”

“I do,” Oikawa vowed, changing his grip to a caress as he led Iwaizumi in closer to kiss him. The spring bubbled when they touched, bathing the big scared wolf in a sauna. Iwaizumi was _scared_ – because of _him_. Never again. Neverever. Iwaizumi buried fingers in his hair, kissing him back into the cushions. Oikawa pulled back enough to say, “You still have to take me to the movies.”

Iwaizumi laughed, warm and buttery. “I can do that.”

Oikawa rubbed his nose over Iwaizumi’s, bubbles popping in his cave. “And I mean it about the phone thing.”

“I know you do,” Iwaizumi said to his jaw, tilting Oikawa’s head back with his nose to mouth down to his neck. “I’ll do better.”

Oikawa failed to hide a laugh, but he didn’t care. “It would be hard to do worse.” Iwaizumi dragged his teeth over his neck – sucked on skin. _Oh_... He moved under Iwaizumi and felt the tug where they were starting to stick together. He grimaced with a little whine and poked at Iwaizumi’s shoulder for space. “I should go wash off, I’m filthy.”

Iwaizumi’s hand stilled his hips’ squirming, holding him down to the couch. “I can help with that.” Oikawa opened his mouth, but Iwaizumi slithered down him instead, berries bursting under his fingers. He paused at the awful mess on Oikawa’s stomach, running a finger through it. “It’s pink.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth. “Yes, thank you for that penetrating glimpse into the obv-” He gasped. Iwaizumi licked him again, humming as Oikawa scrambled to hold him by his hair, _away_ -

“Smells like copper.” He sucked at the dip of Oikawa’s hip even as it twitched under his hands. “But it doesn’t taste like blood.”

“What are you-?” Wet heat closed over his limp dick. His head knocked back into the arm of the couch, pain _way_ duller than whatever twists Iwaizumi’s tongue was doing. He explored like a damn excavator, Oikawa’s toes curling because nothing else could _move_. “Stop doing science to m- nn- _Hajime_.”

Iwaizumi smiled around him, sliding off to ask the sensitive skin of his abdomen, “Could I get you off like this?”

Oikawa’s head swam, mouth dry as he rasped, “Yeah, probably, but why would you want-” Iwaizumi’s damn mouth cut him off again. He didn’t hum so much as rattle, like that gravel driveway – his mouth opened _more_ so his stupid tongue could stick out and – Oikawa’s eyes flew open, a gasp escaping as his back left the couch. He couldn’t get hard, not with no blood in his system, but instead of following the damn plan and fixing that, Iwaizumi was doing motherfucking _science_ and trying to fit _all_ of him in at once like a damn _demon_. He was _certifiable_. But, when Iwaizumi tried to pull back, Oikawa’s hands slammed on his head and shoved him back down.

Iwaizumi hummed and shuffled Oikawa’s body around without taking his mouth away, hitching Oikawa’s knees over his shoulders, hands sliding around his waist, hips, his upper thighs, back. Oikawa bit his lip as his fingers worked over _very_ sensitive skin, almost breaking his own skin when Iwaizumi _somehow_ managed to fit one of his balls in his mouth _with_ his dick. Something inhuman and high-pitched left this right throat, hands scrabbling for _something_ but they just wouldn’t stay _still_. Iwaizumi’s fingers walked back to dip into his ass, slick sex noises background to the electric wave shocking up Oikawa’s spine. Oikawa kicked, flailed, the curl of his fingers matching the curl of the beast in Iwaizumi, all teeth and hard stances and a warm blanket around him. What kind of _monster_ got all noble with a dick (and a ball) in their mouth? “Pervert,” he forced out, much breathier than it had a right to be. Iwaizumi set up a rhythm with his fingers in response, tapping at his prostate in time with his mouth. This was too much, he was _insane_ , he was _so_ dead for this later… The wolf just smiled at him, teeth bared.

He gasped, eyes open but unseeing as white washed over him. His skin was all static, an angry radio blaring over everything, how Iwaizumi cleaned him up and crawled back to lay over him, ear on his chest, warm and content. Oikawa’s arms wove around him, keeping him near as his senses clicked back into place. He settled there, hand splayed across Oikawa’s side, breath light despite the sin he had just committed. _Demon_ werewolf. Oikawa was almost back in his own skin when Iwaizumi turned his head to kiss his chest – his heart. “Your heart beats so slow,” he tucked there.

Oikawa’s mouth twitched, hands carding through sweaty hair. “Does it bother you?”

Iwaizumi pressed his cheek on Oikawa’s chest a few times – a barely there shake. “It’s just strange.” A joke coiled between them. “Unexpected, given the circumstances.”

Oikawa wrinkled his nose and wriggled his free elbow under his as a prop to frown down at an unmoving Iwaizumi. “You know, I’m usually better fed when I hop in bed with someone.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or better fed _by_ the person I’m in bed with.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes opened to smile at him. “I _did_ offer.”

He _was_ hungry. “Is the offer still open?”

“If you want it to be.” Oh, Oikawa wanted it. Iwaizumi traced fingertips up Oikawa’s side. “But if you don’t like what my blood does to you, I-”

“It’s not that.” That forest was his favorite place to be, after all. “I just… I wanted to know how much of what I felt that first night was your blood, and how much of it was just you.”

“And?”

Oikawa shivered. “And now I know.” Iwaizumi shot him a flat look. Oikawa went on, “And I’m asking. Will you let me feed on you?”

Iwaizumi nodded. A bubble burst. “How do you want to…?”

Oikawa tapped his shoulder. “Sit back. Against the sofa will be more comfortable.”

They danced around on the cushions for a good spot, all elbows and knees and spotty discoordination in counterpoint to their prior symmetry. Iwaizumi laid back on the sofa at last, Oikawa sitting on his abdomen and feet tucked up under his thighs. Iwaizumi bent his arm back to expose the old marks, two circles on the inside of his bicep. Oikawa’s everything narrowed down to the blue pulsing just beneath…

He paused himself, breath caught behind a frown. They were supposed to be _thinking_ now. “Is this…” He pouted, bit his lip. “Is this where you want me to mark you?”

Muscles bunched between his legs. “You mean permanently? Like a blood bond?”

_No!_ “No,” he said, calmer than his mind, “no, not. Not now, not until you’ve met everyone and not until you tell me it’s something you want.” He could _feel_ it, the want that pulsed through Iwaizumi, as sure as his mother’s name or the turn of the tides, but he could pretend like he didn’t. “But if… if me feeding on you becomes a regular thing-” God, _please_ \- “wherever I bite you won’t have time to fully heal, so…”

Iwaizumi frowned with a twist to his eyebrows. “Do marks on different places mean different things?”

Oikawa shrugged. “Only implicitly. The Bishop marks his wolves on the neck, because you can’t pretend to be anything but a vampire’s lackey with a permanent set of teeth marks on your throat. A mark on the thigh obviously implies intimacy and is the easiest to keep hidden, but it’s also where a lot of vampires will mark a human plaything.” He traced fingers down Iwaizumi’s arm, tapping two of them on his wrist. “Wrists are convenient but hard to hide, knees and elbows are…” He wrinkled his nose. “If there’s a mark there, it’s usually not the only one someone is wearing.”

“A junkie,” Iwaizumi growled.

Oikawa shrugged again, shaking off the afterimages of puncture wounds and blown-out pupils. “A human who belongs to a nest.”

Iwaizumi waved his hand at his own marks on the inside of his arm. “And this?”

“Easy to hide, but easy to access and easy to show if you need to. A vampire’s agent rather than a servant.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes held his as they asked, “And if you had your choice?”

“I can’t promise I won’t try to bite your thigh again,” he answered before he could overthink it. “So if you’d rather only have one set of marks on you, it should probably be there.”

“And if I didn’t care how many there were, or where?”

Saliva swelled between Oikawa’s teeth, but he could taste the- not lie, but… overexaggeration in it. He smiled to himself. “If you really didn’t care, I would already have my fangs in your throat.”

A sliver of gold grew between black and brown in Iwaizumi’s eyes. “To claim me?” he breathed.

“To taste you.” Oikawa’s eyes flicked down from his to the blue beat in Iwaizumi’s jugular. “Blood is always sweetest when it’s spilled from the neck.”

“Not today,” he said even as he ran a hand through Oikawa’s hair. “But when I can stay here for a while and not have to hide it from anyone…”

Oikawa shuddered, full-body, a chill rolling through him. “Fuck. Fuck, Hajime, I want to mark up every inch of you.” Iwaizumi smirked, just barely, and opened his arms to bare the mirror vein to the existing marks. Oikawa groaned and dove in, teeth first.

He didn’t struggle against a current this time, but was rushed along with it, the spring spitting him out in the heart of the woods. He fell into the leaf litter, letting it envelop him, leaves and dirt in his hair and his toes and his mouth, always his mouth. He swallowed, and the forest grew a few acres, more root-caverns to explore, more _Hajime_ -holes to unearth. At another time. For now, he closed his eyes and drank it in, Virginia creepers looping around him, holding him to that one spot as the sun dappled through the leaves, warming him from heart to sole. He ran his fingers through the detritus, feeling it give under him like skin, the vine around his head hairy. _Hajime_ …

He didn’t notice the forest was flooding until water lapped at his elbows. He was laying in an inch of rotten-egg water now, flushing in from the spring he came from to merge with the forest and become something borrowed, something new. He sat up to watch it happen and was yanked out, blinking leaves and stars away to muted red and sweaty body hair. He slid up Iwaizumi’s arm by his mouth, fluttering eyelashes over his pulse in his throat – but not tonight. He kept going up to Iwaizumi’s parted mouth, licking into it. Iwaizumi arched up, sticking to Oikawa’s chest as Oikawa’s wandering hands drew him closer in a non-hallucinogenic manner, opening Iwaizumi’s legs to lie between them, wrap them around his own waist as Iwaizumi tangled up his hair and tasted his own blood.

Iwaizumi’s living lungs gave out on him, and he pulled away, gasping into Oikawa’s cheek. Oikawa couldn’t keep his mouth off, Iwaizumi’s sweat not as satisfying as his blood but addictive in its own right. He licked along the line of his jaw, down to his neck, teasing with his still-out fangs. _Soon_.

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi gasped, and Oikawa smiled. He ran the tips of his fangs down the line of his collarbone, blunt incisors keeping his course, before pushing up to look into Iwaizumi’s hazy face. Iwaizumi blinked at him, thoughts a rough tumble of shoulds and coulds and wants that ran over Oikawa’s like water, falling into his pool with little tings. He could feel his own pulse in his palms, sliding up Iwaizumi’s warm sides, the pounding rushing all around. He was cupping lightning, thunder in a bottle, and he was ready to storm all night. Iwaizumi tilted his head back, bearing blue and gold in an embossed invitation. Oikawa moaned, opening up to it, sliding up to kiss the colors, hands in his hair, name in the air-

_Bang bang bang!_

They both looked to the door, Oikawa a blink behind. He breathed – what were Matt and Makki _doing_ here? Iwaizumi growled, shifting under him. “ _Tooru, open the fucking door!_ ”

Oikawa stopped Iwaizumi’s wriggling with a hand as he swallowed the last of the blood away. “I’m a bit busy at the moment, Makki,” he called, batting his eyelashes at the closed door.

“ _Too busy to answer your phone for the last hour?_ ” Matt bit out. Oikawa froze, his wereblood-high flipping topsy-turvy. Iwaizumi’s hands gripped his waist, grounding him enough to shake his head at Iwaizumi’s questioning head tilt. He could handle them… but why _now_? He would have to give them a stern talking-to later.

Oikawa extracted himself from Iwaizumi’s hold, grabbing the first free cloth he found – a dirty sheet – to cover himself with as he stalked to the door. He ground his teeth as he cracked the door enough to peer one eye out at his guests, who were glaring at him already. Matt growled, “Where the fuck have you b-” But he had to break off into a cough, fist against his mouth as the air of the room trickled into the hallway. Makki crouched, opening the umbrella he was carrying like a shield.

“I told you his new wolf was here,” Makki hissed from behind the umbrella. Oikawa rolled his eyes, but while Makki’s weapon of choice was a useless defense against everyone in the building _including_ himself, Oikawa didn’t miss the long barrel of a tranquilizer rifle slung across Matt’s back. His stomach twisted tighter.

“What happened?” He leant on the door so his inside arm could gesticulate wildly behind him at Iwaizumi. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good, and it would be better handled by a properly clothed Hajime. Makki lowered the umbrella to scowl at him, Matt drumming his fingers on his crossed arms and tapping his foot.

“No _shit_ he’s here,” Matt growled, ignoring Oikawa’s question, “and _you’re_ high as balls.”

“What _happened_.” He had enough blood in him for his face to heat up, iron on his lips, but they could give him grief about it when they weren’t radiating wildfire panic and he didn’t smell of – Iwaizumi. He clenched his jaw and stared Matt down, still squared off and levelling him with that ‘unimpressed therapist’ glare.

“Kyoutani slipped his collar some time before nightfall.” Oikawa’s stomach stopped knotting to drop. “We tracked him as far as Lake Comeaux, but Shigeru can’t pin him down and since _you_ were too busy getting laid to answer your phone, we had to waste time coming back to get you.”

What did they… A flash to broken circuitry raining from his palm. Oh. Right. That. He should get that fixed. His lip curled, but he forced his tone to stay even and said, “Make sure the campsites are clear and get everyone together at the boat launch. I’ll be right behind you.”

Matt huffed, thick eyebrows drawing together. “Just put on some pants and come with us. We need you, Tooru.” He was _really_ upset if he was using Oikawa’s given name. That used to do something to him (not that he ever told them that), but now, after Iwaizumi, it just felt like a ghost against his heartstrings. He leant harder on the edge of the door, doorknob twisting in his hand.

“I need a minute, Matt,” he sighed. Makki opened his mouth, but Oikawa just said, “Please.”

Makki clapped his mouth shut and sighed, tip of the umbrella falling to roll on the carpet. “Is he coming with you?” he asked, waving at the closed door. Oikawa set his jaw.

“Hell of a time for an introduction,” Matt grumbled, scratching his head and mussing up his hair even more.

“Just get everyone to the boat launch,” Oikawa snapped as he slammed the door. He leant on it, closing his eyes against the sick swirl of the world, working hard not to listen to the mutterings through the door before they walked away, voices and presences fading. He would have to spend the rest of the night tracking Kyoutani down now, _wasting_ precious Iwaizumi-time on this… this _nonsense_. He didn’t ask for this. Why was he being punished?

“So those were your wolves,” Iwaizumi’s scratch of a voice said, almost pulling him out of his wallowing. He kept his eyes closed, though, even as he felt the pull of Iwaizumi’s curiosity, his attention. He really did need a minute.

“My first and second, before Kyoutani,” he sighed. The door was nice and cool against his back. Sturdy. Grounding.

“Kyoutani is your… mad dog,” Iwaizumi continued. Oikawa nodded. “And he got loose?”

“Apparently.” That topsy-turviness that the knock had flipped wasn’t resettling, rocking his world under his feet. This door was such a _good_ door. Did he really have to leave it?

But he could feel Iwaizumi bubbling, piecing together the story, formulating a plan, trying not to start a fight with all the volatile chemistry in the air. But he boiled, a rage at… something. Something begging to be directed, harnessed. _Why_ did it have to be for _this?_

Iwaizumi cleared his throat. “How can I help?”

Ugh. Oikawa rolled his head back and forth along the door. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “Yahaba – his handler – has never had any trouble… handling him before. I’m not sure how this happened.”

“It’s possible he tried to wean him too fast.” Oikawa cracked his eyes open to look at Iwaizumi at last, fully clothed and waiting by the couch. Wean him off… oh. He looked to the side, biting his lip. Iwaizumi opened his mouth – snapped it closed, eyes flashing. “You stopped _feeding_ him?”

Oikawa scowled at Iwaizumi. Why was he _shocked?_ Did he think Oikawa _liked_ killing innocent humans to keep a pet happy? “I don’t kill if I have the choice, and neither do my wolves. You should know that by now.”

Iwaizumi snarled. “Tooru, that’s why he broke loose.” Oikawa pouted, lifting his chin up and away. Iwaizumi took a step forward, tone falling as he continued, “If you don’t feed him, he’s going to hunt. Unless you wean him off human flesh, he’s going to start killing to eat.” Oikawa wrinkled his nose, shoulders falling. He guessed he knew something about that. Distaste welled up in his mouth, sour and bittersweet. Iwaizumi sighed. “It’s like a drug.” His crossed arms tightened. “If he stops feeding on people, he won’t be able to stay in his wolf form, and if he turns back while he’s still blood crazed, he might lose his mind completely.”

Oikawa froze, staring at the steady boil in front of him as the words filtered through him, their implications settling over him like a downpour film. He had inherited an addict, but instead of helping him rehabilitate, his own needs had created a junkie. But unlike a real drug addiction, this wouldn’t be an implosive end, but a bloody bomb. And he was running out of time on the countdown ticker. “What are my options?” he asked, voice distant.

Iwaizumi worked his jaw. “You can’t kill him, so we’re going to have to find him, catch him, and hope we can bring him back if we do it right this time.”

Oikawa bit his tongue. “That’s a lot of ‘we’s,” he said, trying to keep his own boil contained.

Iwaizumi’s shoulders hunched in a little. “Well, it’s not quite the new moon, but you did promise to let me meet your pack.”

Oikawa’s lip curled. “As soon as they smelled you on my skin, Matt and Makki were ready to accept you as their new packmaster. But I’m not going to force you to-”

“Tooru.” A knife of something hollow, a pining loneliness Oikawa had only felt once before in a fever dream, stabbed between his ribs. “Once they meet me for real, the offer won’t stand. But tonight I can help you save someone in your pack, if you’ll let me.” God, what was _with_ this guy and his random acts of heroism?

“Why wouldn’t the offer stand?” Oikawa asked, fingers twitching. He wanted to _touch_ him, smooth out those forehead wrinkles, but he stayed put, back against the door. Iwaizumi sighed, running a hand through his hair, other one still tucked under his arm.

“Because packs bond and communicate through physical contact, and it hurts most shifters to touch me.”

“Because you’re strong?” Oikawa ventured.

“I…” Iwaizumi deflated, chin falling to his chest. “Yeah.”

“Makki called you the Wolfborn.” Iwaizumi’s face scrunched up even more. “What does that mean?”

“Most shapeshifters are turned. I come by it naturally.” Oikawa tilted his head. Iwaizumi scratched through his hair, teeth bared, glaring holes into the carpet as he went on, “My parents are both werewolves. They run with the pack that controls most of northern Alabama. I was born on the full moon. As a wolf.”

“As a wolf?”

Iwaizumi’s fingers gripped his shirt hard enough that Oikawa thought it would rip. “My mother went into labor as a human, then she turned, then I turned, then a few hours later…”

Ouch. He winced, stomach clenching just at the implication. “That poor woman.”

Iwaizumi’s mouth twitched. “I bring her flowers every time I go home.” He shook it off, arms falling out of their tight hold. “You should get dressed. We need to get going.”

Oikawa moaned. Stupid sexy logic. He pushed off the door at last to go to his dresser, sheet falling as he walked, Iwaizumi kneeling to ties his shoes and wait. “I would kill for a shower.”

“I’m not exactly thrilled to be meeting your pack like this, either.” Iwaizumi was curled in on himself again, pouting at his shoelaces and eyebrows knit all tighter. “Though even if we spent an hour in the shower, I think we’d still smell like each other.” He bristled, hedgehog spikes rubbing up against Oikawa’s brain. Oikawa pulled on the first set of clothes his hands landed on, distracted by listening to this other’s thoughts, not quite a perfect psychic reading, but different than anything he had ever experienced with any other wolf or victim. The hedgehog spikes curled around a soft center, that aching loneliness from before clawing out. He huffed behind Oikawa’s back, and it turned a sick yellow, bitter and old. Such a drama queen.

Oikawa buttoned his last button and snuck up behind Iwaizumi, still pouting on the floor, and laid over his back, tucking his chin over his shoulder. “So noisy, Iwa-chan.” Iwaizumi wriggled under him, grunting like a savage, but Oikawa hugged him tighter in response, burying his nose in the cavity under his ear. “They’re going to like you,” he promised with a sniff. “Even if you do smell like you fucked the boss.” Iwaizumi growled, vibrating under his spread hands. Oikawa kissed his clenched jawline. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m not worried,” Iwaizumi snapped, shoulders stiff.

“I thought you were the one who said we should try to be honest with each other,” Oikawa crooned.

“I’ve done this enough times to know how it turns out.” He stood to shake Oikawa off but Oikawa wasn’t that easy to lose. He clung on, letting Iwaizumi pull him up and back to his feet. Iwaizumi scowled – sighed, relaxing in Oikawa’s hold. “It’s not about liking me, I just don’t want to scare them. They’ve been through enough already without…” He shook his head, and Oikawa squeezed him tighter. “I just don’t want to make things worse than they already are.”

Aww. “So let’s go make a good first impression,” he said, hands running over Iwaizumi’s shirt. It was polyester – silky, black, and didn’t wholly smell like him. But that was a topic for another night.

Iwaizumi turned his head to look at Oikawa, nose brushing his cheek. “What do you mean?”

Oikawa raised an eyebrow. “We don’t exactly have volunteers lining up to go out and find Kyouken. I think they’ll appreciate the help.”

“I’m not doing it for them.” Oikawa blinked. _Aww-_ “I’m not doing it for you, either.” Boo. “Your wolf is in trouble. He’s a danger to himself and anyone who gets in his way. If I can stop him from getting hurt, or hurting anyone else, I will.”

Stupid sexy hero. “I suppose you _would_ stick your neck out for any pack that need your help, wouldn’t you?”

Iwaizumi’s nose wrinkled – this close, Oikawa could see the pores in it, the sunspots mottling his skin. “You don’t walk away from people in need.” This _guy_.

Oikawa huffed on a laugh and slid around Iwaizumi, hands trailing down his arms to his fingers, guiding him to the door, smiling at gold-dark eyes. “Let’s not keep them waiting, then, Mr. Heroic.”

Iwaizumi didn’t fight him, following Oikawa’s lead down the hall and outside the hotel, thoughts ticking through their handfast connection. He headed to the one vehicle in the parking lot, not noticing when Oikawa dropped his hand at the door to pause at the entrance, nose in the air. That smell, the smell from the cinders of a Popeye’s napkin of desert moonlight, it was back. It was _here_. And it came from the Jeep Iwaizumi was unlocking, forest gold deep in the waning moonlight. Oikawa’s lip curled, nails digging into his palms.

“Maybe not the best choice of vehicles, puppy.” Iwaizumi leant out of the driver’s door to give him a Look. Oikawa clenched his jaw. “If you’re worried how my pack will react to you smelling like me, you really don’t want to be smelling like _that_.”

Iwaizumi breathed in audibly, eyebrows frowning for him. Oh come _on_ – did he _really_ not notice? He gave Oikawa an unreadable look. “Right.” He grabbed something off the passenger seat – his phone – before kicking the door shut and locking it with a _click_. “You have a car?”

Oikawa flipped the question away. “Wait here.” He flicked back to his garage, halfway through raising the door when Iwaizumi’s delayed surprise caught up with him. Was that really the first time he had run in view of Iwaizumi? They really did have a lot of catching up to do. Ah well. They would have to make time another night.

It was dank and dusty in the garage, months of humidity and neglect seeping at the window frames and pouring through the concrete. Kunimi might have come down here once or twice to kick the boiler, but this was _his_ space, the closest it got to a mancave. If his room inside the hotel was him acting the vampire, this was the only place where he could feel remotely human. Something about working with his hands kept him tethered to earth. But it had been hard, coming out here with a lump of silver not allowing to escape from his fundamental differences. He had forgotten where he came from.

Not anymore. He pulled the sheet off the bike tucked between the rotting Edo woodscreen and the half-made armoire he would absolutely finish one day, holding his mouth closed against the clouding dust. The Impala needed some work before it could hit the road again, and his other bike wasn’t passenger-friendly, so it was time to let his baby out for a night on the town. It would absolutely get him some flack from movie-reference-noticer Iwaizumi, but as long as she ran…

He fished the keys from the large array of keyrings over the toolbox, wrestling her out of her hole and out to a wider patch of concrete, half on the gravel outside the tucked-under garage and shining in the moonlight. He used the dust sheet to wipe out the creases in the leather, blowing on the dash before swinging a leg over to keep her steady while he tried his luck on the ignition. He held his tongue in his teeth as the engine turned over once – twice – caught. Thank God. He didn’t want to see how Iwaizumi reacted to a midnight run. Last time he had carried someone with him they had thrown up on his shoes for the rest of the night.

He walked it out into the night, the screaming bugs muffling her purr, and kicked out the stand so he could lock back up, ear out for Iwaizumi. He was still where Oikawa had left him, talking on the phone with someone. Oikawa took his time, grabbing his riding gloves off the workbench before he hauled the door closed. He walked the bike up the gravel to his parking lot, absolutely _not_ listening to Iwaizumi talk to his – mom. Aw. Of course a good Samaritan like himself was a momma’s boy. Then again, after the story about his birth, who wouldn’t be? Oikawa smiled, waiting just out of sight as he checked the gauges on his baby in the parking lot floodlights. She would make it to the lake and back, at least. She really needed some TLC when this whole… mess was cleaned up. Ugh. His lip curled. This night wasn’t going as planned at _all_.

Iwaizumi and his mother hung up with adorable ‘I love you’s. Oikawa schooled his sneer away and got back on his baby as Iwaizumi rounded the corner, gravel crunching. Iwaizumi ground to a halt, raising a busy eyebrow at Oikawa’s perch. Oikawa smiled. “Ready to go?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Iwaizumi growled. Oikawa flipped his hair.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he huffed, tugging on his gloves. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but took the last few steps to Oikawa’s side.

“You know this isn’t even a good bike, right?” he said even as he got on, arms curling around Oikawa’s waist. How _dare_ he disrespect the baby?

“Isn’t it?” Oikawa sniffed, kicking her into gear and peeling out of the lot. Iwaizumi’s arms cinched tighter, and Oikawa grinned, wind blowing back his hair.

* * *

Oikawa didn’t sense his pack until they were almost in sight. Either the dawn light of Iwaizumi was stronger than he thought, or he was tragically off his game. He parked his baby far enough away for them to have room to do their wolf war dance between the picnic table they sat at (or on, in Kunimi’s case). Matt didn’t even give him time to turn off the engine before he aimed his tranquilizer rifle at a dismounted Iwaizumi, Makki in position as his shield with his ridiculous umbrella. Oikawa opened his mouth to tell them to back off-

A car door slammed down behind him. “You miserable son of a bitch!” Oikawa plastered on a smile and turned as Yahaba stomped up to him, fire in his eyes and fangs in his mouth. Oikawa spread his hands.

“Ah, Yahaba, you made it-”

“This is _your_ fucking fault, you piece of shit!” He kept on stomping, heedless of the gravel underboot or the hard eyes on him. “Because you couldn’t bother to check your goddamn phone, Ken is going to _die_ out there!” He coiled to jump on Oikawa, who braced for impact, but Iwaizumi stepped in first.

“Stop.” Yahaba stopped. Oikawa blinked, wrist going limp. Yahaba’s face twisted, caught between shock and rage.

“Who the fuck are you?” he snapped at Iwaizumi. Oikawa’s fists clenched. “Get out of my way!” He pushed Iwaizumi away – tried to. He cried out and fell back, crashing into the gravel like Iwaizumi had shoved _him_ instead of just standing there. Oikawa raised his eyebrows as Yahaba stared up at Iwaizumi with white-circled eyes. “What _are_ you?”

Oikawa felt a stab to his gut – Iwaizumi’s gut. He grit his teeth against it, trying to force reassurance through it – _God_ , he was bad at this.

“He’s the Wolfborn.” Matt’s chill tone rankled at Oikawa, and he glared back at him and the level sights of his rifle aimed between Iwaizumi’s shoulderblades. Matt ignored him, not taking his eyes off Iwaizumi’s hairline.

“Bullshit.” Yahaba turned his flickering fire on Matt and Makki, easier targets than Iwaizumi or Oikawa. “What the fuck is he _doing_ here?’

“I’m here to help you get your friend back,” Iwaizumi answered like the question had actually been directed at him like it was _polite_ to do. “I’m not trying to cause trouble,” he said as he turned to the rest of the pack, eyes tight and hands low. Makki’s umbrella opened like a ruff on a lizard, covering him and part of Matt. “If you want an extra pair of hands, I’m here. If not, I’ll go.”

“Just like that?” Matt asked over his gun.

Iwaizumi nodded. “Just like that.”

Matt stared him down, jaw grinding. Oikawa had to wait – this was all part of the war dance, and he knew he didn’t have a place in it. He was getting really sick of feeling like an outsider with his own pack. But he could deal for a few seconds…

Matt lowered the gun, and Oikawa tried not to slump too noticeably. Matt jerked his chin to beckon Iwaizumi over to the table.

“Seriously?” Yahaba’s voice cracked from the ground. “That’s it? He’s just… on our _side_ now?”

“Oikawa trusts him,” Makki said, even as he cowered behind his umbrella.

“Yeah, ‘cause that counts for shit.” Okay, he had one more strike left on his rude card before he was getting _pulled_. Yahaba sniffed, loud and long. “Let’s trust the guy who fucked the boss into a better mood.” _Ooh…_

Iwaizumi bunched up beside him, foot itching to give him the beating Oikawa knew he deserved. “He’s the reason the boss is back among the living,” Matt said before they could start the whipping. “And I’m not going to say no to help getting your wolf back at heel.” He held out his hand for a shake, Iwaizumi’s tension making their gold string vibrate as he moved to take it. Matt shifted forward a little at the last second to grip Iwaizumi’s forearm, clasping their wrists together. Everyone was laser-focused on the interaction, Makki washed-out and hissing while they were just _standing_ there, having a staring contest. He was _tired_.

They _finally_ let each other go, and Iwaizumi looked to Makki, hand outstretched. Makki made for it – snapped back. “Actually, I think I’ll pass for now. No offense.”

_Yes_ offense! “None taken,” Iwaizumi said instead, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So what’s the plan?”

Matt huffed. “There isn’t one.”

“We’ve combed the area around where Kyoutani was being held,” Makki said, not coming out from behind the _stupid_ umbrella. It was bright pink, shining even in the point lights of Yahaba’s trashy pickup’s headlights. “But in his wolf form he’s too fast for us to track, and we don’t have anything to bait him with.”

“We were kinda hoping you’d have a brilliant idea to bring to the table,” Watari said, tilting precariously to throw an eye Oikawa’s way. Oikawa crossed his arms against their expectations.

“I’m sure I could find him,” he said, drawing their looks away from Iwaizumi at last. “But I doubt he’ll follow me anywhere, let alone back to his pen.” He flicked his eyes to Iwaizumi, as steady as the stupid dirty creek next to them. “And if I force him to turn back now it could hurt him,” he guessed. Iwaizumi gave the smallest nod.

“Like you give a shit,” Yahaba interrupted, shoving to his feet. “He was never anything more than a _garbage_ disposal to you, and now _you_ don’t need him anymore. If he weren’t under the Bishop’s protection, you probably would have killed him just to be done with it!”

“If I wanted Kyoutani dead, it wouldn’t matter what Ushiwaka had to say about it,” Oikawa bit at him, new blood boiling. Yahaba had a smart retort to that, he was sure, but Oikawa steamrolled over it with, “Look, I know what you think of me, but I’m going to make this right.”

“ _How?_ ”

How indeed. Oikawa glanced at Iwaizumi, who put on his cute thinking face and frowned at Matt and Makki. “You said you don’t have anything to bait him with?”

Matt shook his head. “No new bodies since you showed up-” _Ow-_ “and he’s already eaten his way through our emergency reserve of pork.”

Iwaizumi tapped his toes. “No chance of a resupply?”

“Not soon enough to matter.” Makki _finally_ lowered the damn umbrella, although he didn’t close it. “The Bishop gives safe passage to one driver of one truck on the first and third Fridays of every month. We’re lucky the guy takes a detour for us in the first place.”

Iwaizumi stomped his foot one last tap. “Sounds like it’s time to piss off your boss, then,” he said, pulling out his phone.

Oikawa grinned. “Charmer.”

Iwaizumi ignored him, clicking through his phone until he pressed Dial and held it to his ear, staring over the murky, swampy channel. “Lev, it’s me, Jimmy, I-” His lips pursed. “Yeah, I-” A long pause and a sigh. “When isn’t he? Look, Lev, I need a favor.” He tapped his free fingers against his thigh. “I need at least one live pig and as much meat as you can fit in one of your reinforced trucks, tonight.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not a favor for TK, a favor for me.” He inhaled, and exhaled with, “And I’m gonna need you to make the run to Baton Rouge. I know it’s a lot to ask, but-” He blinked. “What?” Whatever the answer was made him glare daggers at Matt and Makki. Makki sidled away, umbrella threatening to come back up, but Matt stayed still, watching him with heavy eyes. He sighed. “Yeah, Lev, and one of his own is in trouble. We could really use the help tonight.” A short pause, the frogs in the reeds and the low rumble of Yahaba’s idling truck the only noises. Even his gabbermouth pack was silent, hinged on Iwaizumi’s one-sided conversation. “I know,” Iwaizumi said, “and I wouldn’t ask you to. If I can get you that permission, can you make the run?” He bit his lip, winced. “You can say no. But I need a yes or no.” The sigh from the other end rattled all the way to Oikawa. A smile twitched at Iwaizumi’s eyes. “Thanks, Lev. I owe you one.” He slapped a palm over the mic and pinned Oikawa to the gravel like a bug with his needle-eyes. “Make it happen.”

He tossed the phone to Oikawa, who only caught it because of his finely-honed catlike reflexes. He pouted his best, but Iwaizumi didn’t back down, so he sighed and put on a smile – it helped to sell the voice. “Hello, Lev?” he asked as he walked back up towards the car collection.

“ _Oh- hey!_ ” The thin tenor on the other end cleared his throat. “ _Are you the clergyman Jimmy promised?_ ”

Oikawa frowned, sitting on the trunk of Kunimi’s Civic. “I am Tooru Oikawa, the Deacon of Baton Rouge,” he said, title making him shiver. It had been a long time since he had occasion to say it out loud. “What do you need from me?”

This Lev guy whistled. “ _Well damn, Jim sure knows how to follow through!_ ” Oikawa sneered at the trees across the road. “ _Wait… Oikawa? Ain’t you dead?_ ” Oikawa growled.

“Obviously not if I’m _talking_ to you right now,” he snapped – don’t break the phone, Tooru, it’s not yours. “Who’s telling people I’m dead?”

“ _Oh, y’know, just the word on the street an’ such. Glad you ain’t, a’course!_ ” He cleared his throat again. “ _But, like… I trust Jimmy with my life, y’know? But I gotta check for_ sure _if I’m gonna be runnin’ against the Bishop, right? He’s a – he’s a rough dude_.”

“Yes. I _know_.” He wrinkled his nose and ran a thumbnail along his eyebrow, scowling at the crabgrass poking between the gravel. “After all, would you have no fear of the one who is in authority?”

A long pause on the other end. “ _Yeah, a’ight._ ” A long, staticy sigh. “ _Tell Jim he owes me big time, yeah?_ ” Someone called in the background of the phone. “ _Yeah?_ ” Lev said, voice distant. “ _Oh, and tell him my sister wants him to come over for dinner- ow!_ ” He whined. “ _Dinner_ and _a movie_.”

Oikawa bared his teeth. “I’ll pass the word along,” he lied. “When can we expect your arrival?”

“ _Oh, gimme ‘bout – three hours maybe? Alisa!_ ” he called to the other person on his end. “ _Go gas up the truck!_ ”

“Excelle-” The call clicked off before he could finish. Why was everyone so _rude_ tonight?

He sighed and dropped the phone from his ear, turning it over in his hands as he stared at the trees and listened. They were still talking behind him. Yahaba was in a tiff, arguing like he always seemed to do, going back and forth with Iwaizumi and the rest of the pack. Wolf stuff. Oikawa was _sick_ of it. He was a _vampire_ , for God’s sake, he never asked for these – _dogs_. He hated dogs! They smelled and slobbered and got their fur all over his clothes. Why couldn’t it be _cats?_ _They_ didn’t go rabid and tear through a swamp on a rampage.

He closed his eyes, nails fiddling with the antenna on Iwaizumi’s phone. He pushed back the starlight awareness of his pack’s panic, Iwaizumi’s grumbly yellow yawn. He reached out…

It was dim, barely discernable even when he concentrated. That scared him almost as much as what he felt, a totally wild animal unleashed, hungry, yearning. He wasn’t human anymore, not even in some dark corner. He was running chasing old scents like butterflies, fleas in his flank.

And he was nineteen and a half miles northeast.

He hopped off the trunk and stretched, still reveling in the lack of rib pain, and picked his way back to the pack. Time to move.

“…Well it’s all a moot point if we can’t get that truck,” Yahaba was saying as Oikawa stepped out of the dark into the light from the collected headlights.

“Actually, that won’t be a problem,” Oikawa said, all of them turning to watch his entrance. “Your associate is loading up a truck as we speak. He should be here in about three hours.” He snapped the still-open phone closed and tossed it at Iwaizumi who caught it with both hands, looking calm but fur up inside. “Care to fill me in on the plan, pet?”

The fur spiked out at the nickname, but he didn’t show it, looking to Matt and Makki. “You know what to do once the truck gets here?” he asked, putting his keys, phone, and wallet on the picnic table between them.

Matt nodded. “Not our first rodeo,” Makki said with a shrug.

“Alright.” Iwaizumi didn’t notice it, but Oikawa caught how the whole pack stood a little straighter at the word – even Matt. “Oikawa will probably be back to you before we are, but as soon as the truck gets here, be ready. We’re going to get him back before sunup.” He flicked a hand at Oikawa as he passed, heading towards the trees. Oikawa obeyed the beckon, winking behind his back at his flabbergasted pack.

“Good luck!” Kindaichi called as they crossed the road.

Oikawa waited until he couldn’t hear Yahaba’s truck anymore to ask quietly, “So, what idiotically heroic thing are you planning to do now?”

Iwaizumi thought as he walked, scowling at the leaves underfoot, stepping over vines. “I want you to help me turn,” he said, letting each word settle in the smilax, “so I can go after Kentarou.” Oh, so they were on a first-name basis now? “He’s territorial, and I think if we can find him, I can get him to chase me back here – into the back of a truck.”

Oikawa considered the spaces left open in that explanation. “And the exceptionally stupid, self-sacrificing part?”

Iwaizumi bit his lip. “I might need a little convincing to turn back.”

“And by ‘convincing’ you mean…”

“Your help.” He sighed. “And maybe a day or two in your safe room.”

Oh dear. “And what are the chances we end up with two hungry wolves out there instead of one?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “Even if my wolf takes over, I won’t hurt anyone. I just might not want to… be me again right away.”

“How can you be sure?” Oikawa asked, fingers twitching to soothe the hedgehog.

Iwaizumi laughed, yellow and bitter. “I spent most of my childhood more wolf than human. Momma taught me not to bite.”

Oikawa nodded. “And if you find Kyouken and come back and you’re not… you?”

“Call for me until I come back to you,” he said, voice cracking. “Just don’t…”

A flash of a twisted, misformed monster wrapped in mattress shreds. Oikawa swallowed. “Pull?”

Iwaizumi gave that yellow laugh again. “Yeah, that might not go so well.”

“How do you plan on finding him in the first place?” Of course, Oikawa was already leading them on the tether to Kyoutani’s pinpoint, but Iwaizumi didn’t know that.

Iwaizumi opened his mouth – snapped it closed. “I have a stupid question.” Oikawa raised an eyebrow as Iwaizumi fidgeted. “Can you…” He closed his eyes, face drawn tight in the deep forest moonlight. “Can vampires fly?”

_What?_ Some could, Oikawa couldn’t – but most didn’t even think to _ask_. Iwaizumi opened his eyes, braced for ridicule, but Oikawa just wanted to kiss the hell out of this man. “What in the world are you planning?”

Iwaizumi growled. “Just – yes or no?”

It was a life-or-death, time crunch, emergency night, and Oikawa couldn’t stop _smiling_. “Not exactly,” he said through it. “But tell me what you need me to do?”

“I was just thinking… you can probably outpace me on foot, but if Kentarou spots you first-”  
Ah. “He’ll know you’re with me.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “If he’s spooked, he might attack us both. But if you could get a bird’s eye vantage point, you could scout ahead without him noticing you. You could point me in the right direction and keep an eye on us both, just in case.”

“I like how you think.” Oikawa flicked up the nearest tree and paused on a branch, laughing a bit at Iwaizumi still staring at his old spot. “This way I won’t have to wade through swamp water.” Iwaizumi looked around – up. Oikawa curled his fingers in a wave. Iwaizumi pouted.

“You can run like that?”

Oikawa flicked to the tree next door, too fast for gravity to take. “You might even be able to keep up with me this way.”

“Cute.” Iwaizumi started to strip, and like hell Oikawa was letting him do _that_ alone. He flicked back down just as Iwaizumi got to the last shirt button, pushing it off with a purr. Iwaizumi smiled at him. “Showoff.”

The shirt fell, showing off the crisscross scars cutting through his chest hair above the neck of his undershirt. It hadn’t been so long since they had been made. By him. By _them_. Doing exactly this. His happy gold mellowed, and he slid his hands down Iwaizumi’s bared arms to hold his hands, watching his face in the silver moonlight. “How dangerous is this, really?”

Iwaizumi’s thumb circled the ball of his wrist, around his now-thrumming pulse. “Enough that I wouldn’t ask anyone else to do it.” His fingers squeezed, eyes hard. “But not so much that it’s not worth doing.”

Oikawa sighed, loud and long, and kissed Iwaizumi’s cheek, nose to his temple. “Just make sure you come back.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere yet.” Oikawa grumbled. Iwaizumi held his face in his rough hands, kissing him like he _mattered_. He broke to press their foreheads together, breath hot in the muggy summer night. “I’ll always come back to you, Tooru,” he said, meeting Oikawa’s gaze head-on. Oikawa could feel the rumble of Iwaizumi’s wolf through all the contact points, gold growing in his eyes before he closed them, sighing. “God, this is going to hurt.”

Oikawa swallowed, hand coming up to pet Iwaizumi’s hair. “No point in putting it off.”

Iwaizumi nodded, pulling away to finish the disrobing. “Should have come wearing tearaway pants and slippers,” he grumbled as he hopped out of his boots.

“Never too late for a wardrobe upgrade.” He bit his lip as he looked Iwaizumi over. It was _different_ in the nighttime. “Thought I wouldn’t trade those jeans for the world.”

Iwaizumi chuckled as he kicked out of them, then the garish boxers underneath. A very naked, _very_ sexy Iwaizumi tilted his head at him, eyes narrowed. “You know, I think your wolves might not be too happy if we start fooling around in the woods instead of going to look for Kentarou.”

“Pity.” He raked his gaze over Iwaizumi’s perfect form up to his eyes. No point in putting it off. He raised his own wrist to his mouth and bit, false iron on his tongue. He held it out to Iwaizumi. “For the pain.”

Iwaizumi took it, shifting closer. He licked at it, and Oikawa shivered. He shoved back at the forest – he was already in one – as Iwaizumi fell to his knees, drinking. Moss crept up Oikawa’s feet, but he held the concrete form of Iwaizumi in front of him, teeth clenched, fangs slicing into his gums. When Iwaizumi finally opened his eyes to Oikawa’s, twenty-four karat and glittering, Oikawa didn’t have to draw breath to say, “Hajime.”

He whined, teeth almost sinking into Oikawa’s wrist, unnatural clacks turning his yellow to red, fuzzy. Oikawa grit his teeth, sap between his fingers, “Hajime.” A long high whine. “Heed my call.”

Iwaizumi choked, coughed, falling to the dirt, moss sucking away. He was struggling, shift not coming with a click like before, groaning and grinding under skin. He just needed one more push… “Iwaizumi Hajime,” he said as hard as he could muster to the writhing fur and skin and his feet, “I command you.”

Iwaizumi _screamed_ , knocking Oikawa back a few steps as the writhing became thrashing, all of his joints aching as they twisted into place with ugly cracks that shattered Oikawa’s ribs and broke his heart. He kept his fists at his sides and forced himself to watch it all, burning it into his mind. He would never let him do this again when he didn’t have to. _Never_.

_Finally_ , the earth-brown wolf was there, panting in the dirt and shaking. Oikawa fell to the ground in front of him, running hands over fur and scratching the sensitive spots he knew now. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, nuzzling Iwaizumi’s wide head. “I’m so sorry.”

Iwaizumi surged forward in his arms, curling into him both physically and mentally. The forest was rocked, leaves shaking in a storm’s wind. Oikawa petted him through it, shushing and bracing against until the gusts faded to breezes, the paw on his knee still at last. Iwaizumi sat back to look at Oikawa, ears up. Oikawa sighed and crouched, wiping at his face. “Alright, let’s go bring the problem child home.” He tried to smile. “Try to keep up.”

He flicked back to the treetops, the string between them almost palpable as it stretched – but it didn’t hurt this time. He didn’t feel the undying urge to yank Iwaizumi back to him until his fingers bled over fur. Instead, it ran with them, Oikawa above and Iwaizumi below, dirt in the pads of his fingers and marsh wind in his fur. Oikawa thought he had a pretty decent nose, but the cocktail Iwaizumi relayed with every breath was like sunlight after fifty years, overwhelming. There was something else, too, something beyond the physical sense that pulsed through them – him – as they ran, following a pull. It was… wholesome, like he could breathe again, like he could _feel_. Laughter pumped through him, richer than blood, something he hadn’t felt in – ever. A relief, a wonder. _Hajime_.

He dropped down to touch him, his wolf form tall enough at the shoulder that he didn’t even have to bend down to run a hand over hide. Iwaizumi was exploding in gold and blue, tongue out as he ran next to Oikawa, big paws almost leaving metallic trails. Oikawa was surprised he could stand so close to his sun without burning, the heat from his pure animal joy filling up the forest. Oikawa laughed to let some out – choked on it. This wasn’t a typical off-moon run (because he had those, he had _done_ this before), this canine happiness wasn’t just some byproduct. That yellow loneliness from before – _long_ before – was being burned away, just by being with _Oikawa_. He could cry.

Iwaizumi rammed into him, trying to bite his hand. Oikawa bopped his nose and took the lead, leaves dancing under his feet as he twirled to look back, conflicting stained-glass layers of sunbright maple and twisted live oak dancing with him. Iwaizumi sped up, and the run was a chase.

Iwaizumi wasn’t bad on his feet, surprising Oikawa a few times with a tug on his shirttail. He always ran from that – they had a _mission_ , dammit – but Iwaizumi wove around his tree path, winding through trunks like an agility course, always focused on Oikawa with a simple dedication that sucked the wind right out of him and crashed him back to Earth to let Iwaizumi try to catch him again, laughing – he couldn’t stop _laughing_ , even when Iwaizumi tried to tree him like a raccoon, paws almost a full seven feet up the trunk.

Then Iwaizumi dropped, ears up, pointing towards – ah. Iwaizumi howled, and every hair Oikawa had stood up. The distant howl Oikawa had missed the first time called back, lower and rougher than Iwaizumi, incoming. Oikawa jumped out of sight, scouting towards the weak tether for a spot for a war dance. Here. He paused in his current tree – a pine. He wrinkled his nose and leapt to a sweet gum so he wouldn’t have to sit in sap, straddling a bough at its base to watch. He closed his eyes.

Iwaizumi was tense beneath him, chest heaving from the run, braced against the undergrowth crash barreling towards him. Oikawa dug his fingers in the gaps between bark pieces, teeth grit as he watched through Iwaizumi – strange, but not wholly alien. Useful.

Kyoutani jumped over a bush and skidded across the old leaves of the clearing. He looked rough, even Oikawa could tell, fur mottled and scars crossing his muzzle and neck. It was hard to tell through the mange, but it looked like his ribs were countable. Oikawa gasped, fingers biting into hardwood. Maybe he _should_ have read Yahaba’s texts.

His distaste was overshadowed by Iwaizumi’s vitriolic rage, not at Kyoutani himself but at his condition, whoever, whatever had made him like that. Oikawa shoved back against the tree trunk.

But the war dance continued below. Kyoutani was posturing, making for Iwaizumi without trying to hit him, while Iwaizumi remained calm, steady, circling. Chained up and unleashed on his enemies.

Kyoutani lunged for Iwaizumi for real, grazing Iwaizumi’s throat before Iwaizumi threw him off, ready for the second attack to catch Kyoutani’s throat in his jaws and pin him down – try to. Gangly Kyoutani rolled away before he could, scared and confrontational because of it. Oikawa didn’t know him well, but what he did know was that given fight or flight, he _always_ picked fight.

Iwaizumi charged first this time. Kyoutani tried to drag him down and failed miserably, Iwaizumi bucking him off like a shudder. Oikawa’s mouth curled into a smile as Iwaizumi pinned him with a growl, keeping him down until he settled, still growling. Iwaizumi stayed still, waiting for Kyoutani to cycle through the stages of grief to acceptance. Oikawa could _feel_ that distance Iwaizumi had whined about now that he was barely attached to his own body, the uncomfortable crackling that was trying to push Kyoutani away, made Makki hiss, sent Yahaba sprawling in the gravel. Oikawa sighed, stiff fingers itching to soothe away the yellow creeping back into gold.

After Kyoutani was still for a few breaths, Iwaizumi let go, backing off – but Kyoutani snapped at Iwaizumi, catching his thigh – flank – in his teeth. It shocked more than hurt, long enough for Kyoutani to make a break for it. Iwaizumi growled and took off after him. Oikawa extracted his fingers from their nine holes and followed.

The wolves below chased at their own pace, fast to anyone but him, panting and bleeding and howling. Oikawa flicked overhead, moving too much to make up for not getting involved. Iwaizumi wanted to handle this _without_ his interference, at least until the resolution, but the pinpricks bleeding through his jeans called for him to go down and keep him from getting more. But he could _stay_ , if he kept moving.

Iwaizumi was catching up – quickly. Kyoutani was strung-out, hours, days, months on the run wearing at him. Iwaizumi nipped at him, blood trails multiplying – lucky Oikawa was still mostly full, or all the goodwill in the world wouldn’t keep him in the trees. Kyoutani tried to stay in the lead, but he was spent until he fell, rolling to show his stomach, panting, dirt in his fur. Iwaizumi stood over him, panting just as hard. Kyoutani was ready to die – had been trying to – but instead, Iwaizumi licked his own bite wound on his neck, trying his dog-best to heal it. He tugged at Oikawa’s string. _Tooru_. He sighed. The resolution.

Oikawa climbed down from his current tree – oak. Kyoutani tensed as soon as his feet touched dirt, growling, but Iwaizumi chided him in his wolf way as Oikawa stepped up, focused on Kyoutani’s eyes (not as gold as Iwaizumi’s). “I know you would rather die than listen to me,” he said, keeping his gaze, “but I can’t let that happen. So let’s make this quick.” He dragged his fangs over his left wrist and held the stream over Kyoutani’s jaws. Of course because he was a little shit he fought it like medicine, which it _was_ , and Oikawa had to use his other hand to pop his jaw’s hinges while Iwaizumi kept the rest of him immobile, but a few drops trickled on his tongue after _far_ too much was lost. It would be a miracle if Oikawa had a heartbeat at all come sunrise.

When Kyoutani’s wounds started to heal on sight, Oikawa took his arm back to try to close up the pricks, jagged and messy in his haste. Iwaizumi settled over Kyoutani, still licking, a calm green washing out the yellow. The poor dear seemed shocked when it vanished, looking up to Oikawa as he crouched across Kyoutani from him. That friction he had felt in the earlier contact was gone, faded into a peace where desert and forest met. Kyoutani turned away from him, hiding in Iwaizumi’s chest, which was fine for now but he made a note to pay attention for _later_. Oikawa rolled his eyes. “So I guess we’re all friends now?” he asked, hand raised. Kyoutani bared his teeth at it, but Iwaizumi batted him back down, allowing Oikawa safe passage to stroke Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi cooed, eyes fluttering from more than just the touch. He nosed at Oikawa’s hand when it came back up, whining for _more_. Oikawa tried to hold back, to give Kyoutani the space he always seemed to desire, but Iwaizumi refused to let up begging until Oikawa sighed. “Alright, alright. But if he bites me, I’m blaming you.” He spread his fingers in the dirt – of _course_ Kyoutani had picked the wettest part in the swamp that wasn’t underwater. Oh well. Clothes could be washed. He sat down and reclined on two ribcages, arms spread wide from neck to rump. Iwaizumi curled closer, and Oikawa patted his backside in response. It was a strange sight, he imagined, but they were calm at last, Iwaizumi’s tail wagging like he had said the word ‘walk’. It was nice.

* * *

Nice never lasted.

It had been pleasant, almost, lying in the middle of the woods as Iwaizumi calmed Kyoutani down and Kyoutani remembered he was supposed to remember things, Oikawa the ferry between them with opposable thumbs. But a fickle southern wind blew by, and they both jumped up like they had seen a squirrel, waking Oikawa up from his _nice_ almost-nap. They all faced it, wolves watering as Oikawa picked it apart, the pack and gasoline and pigs and – “ _No!_ ” he cried, reaching after an already-gone Kyoutani. “Oh, God. Hajime, go! Stop him! You gotta stop him-” He flicked ahead, awareness of them snuffing out as he focused in on the smell, the human smell. The _familiar_ smell. _Takeru_.

It barely took a human breath for Oikawa to get back to the boat launch, skidding to a stop in the middle of his pack’s little pow-wow. Kindaichi jumped back at the gust of his entrance, but the troublemaker himself just crossed his arms and mumbled, “Oh, great.”

“What in the _hell_ are you doing here?” he snapped, grabbing Takeru’s elbow to shake some sense into him. Takeru slapped him off, but Oikawa just grabbed his collar. “Do you _realize-_ ”

“Oikawa.” Oikawa whipped his glare to Matt, standing behind Takeru with a hand splayed on his back. “Where are they?”

“They’re on their fucking _way_ ,” he growled, pawprints of their path stamping on his heart, Iwaizumi’s elastic snapping back to stasis. “Because _some_ genius thought to bring a _human_ to a _wolfhunt_.” They all glanced to the right and behind Oikawa. He flipped around to the endpoint, a gangly redneck in plaid and a backwards cap trying and failing to hide behind Watari like a bison hiding behind a rosebush. “Who the _fuck_ do you think you are,” Oikawa hissed as he stalked on him.

“Uh- uh, I just – it’s me, Lev, we- I-”

“He came to the clinic because _you_ forgot to give him directions,” Takeru snapped. Oikawa didn’t take his eyes off Lev, but as moronically _thick_ as he seemed to be, he knew enough not to meet Oikawa’s eyes. He would _slaughter-_ wait.

“And what were _you_ doing there in the middle of the night?” he drawled, turning on his heel, Lev forgotten. Takeru curled in, arms pulled tight around him. Matt was still flanking him, Makki backing him up with tired eyes. “ _What?_ ”

“I’ve got a stupid key,” Takeru grumbled into his collar.

“It’s closer to his foster home than anywhere else we have,” Matt explained, quiet and cold. “Especially yours.”

“Good thing I was there, too!” Takeru said with a footstamp and a glare. “Otherwise Mr. Lev would _still_ be waiting in the parking lot!”

“You didn’t have to _come along!_ ” Oikawa yelled, throwing his hands up. “ _Years_ I’ve been trying to tell you, it’s too _dangerous_ for you-”

The undergrowth crashed across the street, and he whirled, hissing and spitting out his fangs. Iwaizumi was barely before Kyoutani, leaves in his earth fur and caution in his stance. Kyoutani stopped shy of Oikawa’s range, teeth bared, fixed on Takeru and the obstacles between them. So, Oikawa. Iwaizumi circled, defense without aggression, but if Kyoutani made even one _hair’s_ move-

Yahaba ran out of the trees, halting in the middle of the asphalt road, eyes wide at the scene. “Oh fuck me.”

Kyoutani’s eyes changed, and he rounded on Yahaba’s voice, barking up a racket and herding him back towards the woods. Yahaba’s hands shook on his rifle stock-

Iwaizumi barreled in out of nowhere, slamming Kyoutani to the concrete and out of Yahaba’s point-blank range so his heart was firmly in it. Oikawa hissed, trembling, but Yahaba cursed and aimed _anywhere else_. Something squealed loud enough to shatter glass – the pig Lev had hauled out of his truck. He lurched and lost the lead as it ran away from the predators, a recovered Kyoutani on its heels, Iwaizumi close behind, screaming in Oikawa’s head to _go, take the human_. But he was stuck, feet mired in berry juice, as the rest of the pack watched the two of them take it down, a last squeal dying out as they fought over the kill.

“This isn’t good,” Makki mumbled.

“Why? What’s happening?” Takeru asked, voice wavering. Oikawa swallowed, forcing his fangs back, pulling himself together again. Takeru’s fingers were clenched in the back of his shirt – he wasn’t sure if he had crowded in close enough to take away choice or if Takeru had hidden behind him on his own. It was a good touch, though, maybe not as transcendent as Iwaizumi, but normal, human. He sighed, shoulders dropping by centimeters.

“There’s a reason we use pork as a between-meat,” Matt murmured back. No one wanted to disturb the distant feast. “Oikawa’s new friend turned against the moon, which is bad enough, but… I dunno much about him, but this much pig usually keeps people there.” Oikawa bit his cheek. Iwaizumi _promised_ to come back to him. _Hajime_ , he called down the string, but the other end just growled at him.

They finished, full satisfaction a dim radiation, and Iwaizumi led Kyoutani back to the group, each hauling a leg. Kyoutani didn’t even notice them, following Iwaizumi like the leg was a leash, right up the truck’s ramp and into the shadows of the trailer. Matt shook himself and tapped Makki’s shoulder, moving in to close up-

Iwaizumi reappeared at the back of the truck, lights from the collected vehicles only illuminating a few feet in. Matt and Makki paused, ready to run, but Iwaizumi just reared up, showing off his size as he caught the hanging cord of the door handle in his teeth, bringing it back down and closing them in with a clatter. Matt’s hands fell to his sides, Makki gaping at the door. “Holy _shit_ ,” Watari breathed.

Someone started laughing, throwing them all out of their spell. Lev slapped his knee with his baseball hat before cramming it back on his head, still grinning. “Welp! It’s never boring when Jimmy calls, that’s for sure!”

* * *

Matt took over the scene, directing cleanup of the picnic site and the pig carcass before any dawn fisherman could show up to find any evidence beyond the smell of bacon. When Oikawa tried to help, thought, Matt put a hand to his chest and sat him down at the closest table with a firm, “No.”

Oikawa blinked up at him, excitement of the night catching up with him and making his head move slow. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’ve caused enough damage tonight. You’re sitting your ass down where I can see you until we’re ready to roll out.” Oikawa gasped, but Matt didn’t give him the wink to let him know he was teasing. “In fact…” He looked around and snapped at Makki. “Star, c’mon, it’s bonding time.” Makki nodded and tossed his shovelful of pig bones into the channel, handing the shovel off to Kunimi as he came to the call. Oikawa frowned.

“You can’t just _tell_ people to bond, Matt,” he whined, crossing his legs. Matt raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I’m sorry, maybe you _missed_ the part where none of us could tell what you were up to, or that you couldn’t feel us yelling at you until we had to go yell at you in person.” Makki sat next to Oikawa on the table bench, leaning into his side. Oikawa laid an arm across his shoulders without thinking. Matt sighed and waved them off. “Babe, take care of this, I’m tired.” He turned away, muttering dark thoughts under his breath. Oikawa looked over at Makki, who was trying to smile through the purple circling his eyes. “It’s been way too long since you were in shape to drink right. It’s messing with all of us.”

Oikawa sighed, leaning over on Makki’s shoulder. “I know. I’m…” He hid his face in the bunched-up hood of his sweatshirt. Makki patted the wrist hanging over his chest.

“There, there.” He rubbed Oikawa’s back below where it pressed against the edge of the table. “Been a rough few months for all of us.” Oikawa hiccupped, as close as he could get to crying, other arm coming around to tangle his fingers together, nose pushing aside fold by fold of sweatshirt. Makki chuckled. “Hold a sec, tiger,” he said, turning on the bench to face Oikawa, nudging his head up to look at him. Oikawa blinked at his freckles. “We don’t want your boy kicking me out again, after all.”

“He won’t.” Oikawa blinked. “I think… he’s better now. He’s not so – yellow.”

“I’ll pretend like that makes sense.” His jaw set. “I hope he _is_ better, no matter what color,” he said, “or getting him and Kyoutani out of the trunk and into the clinic is gonna be tricky.”

Oikawa scowled. “What are you talking about? He’s coming back with me.”

“Oikawa.” Makki forced him to meet his eyes, letting the pull of Oikawa tug at him as he said, “No.”

Oikawa licked his lips. “But…”

“I know you’re attached,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “but the _last_ thing _anyone_ needs is to wake up cold and naked in a lockbox twice in a week. You’ve never dealt with an off-moon turn. We have.”

Oikawa pouted. When did all the people around him start making sense that disagreed with what _he_ wanted? “I _hate_ that place,” he whined.

“I know.” His eyes were watering, unblinking. “I’d say we’d let you know as soon as he’s back, but I think you’ll know before any of us.”

Oikawa glanced away, letting Makki blink and breathe. “But he asked for _me_ to help.”

“You could always stay at the clinic.” Oikawa pulled a face, and Makki laughed. “You know it’s the best move,” he said, “and Matt’s already decided that it’s worth telling Shigeru about it for this. So, just this once, don’t be you and don’t pitch a fit.”

Oikawa flicked his ear. “ _Fine_.”

“Good.” Makki pulled aside his shirt collar, sweatshirt already half off his shoulder. “Let’s hope you’re right about him.”

Oikawa nodded, but he wasn’t listening anymore, focused in on the old marks over Makki’s jugular, faint, only visible to him. He darted in and bit.

The wildflower field shot up around him, larkspur and columbine in the air. He sighed and drank it in, grass between his toes. He knelt, sticking a finger in the dirt to make a small hole, and reached into his mouth, pulling a seed out from under his tongue. He planted it, red earth closing up over it, and stood back to watch it grow. It sprouted, faster than ever before, shooting up over his head, rainbow blossoms as big as cabbage roses weighing down woodsy stems. One of them leant down to him, and he turned his head, baring his neck-

“A little help,” it whispered. He blinked it away – they were still at the boat launch, Makki in his arms on a picnic table, one hand supporting his back and the other tucked under the knees across his lap. He let go of Makki’s neck with a lick, groaning underneath him. A warm body pressed against his back, keeping him there.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Matt purred into his nape, fangs scraping down his spine and arms around his waist. Makki gasped, chest heaving against Oikawa’s.

“Watch out, it’s- heady-” But Matt was already plunging in-

White and black trees exploded into the clearing, yellow leaves shaking into pink flowers. The rainbow rosepetals fluttered over Oikawa’s face, featherlight. He gasped, and they flooded his mouth, tangy and peppery. The trees faded, not leaving but a mist falling over them as the flowers crept up his legs, reaching as the rose closed in over his throat, red seeping into pollen.

It all faded with the fog closing in, slow and spotty. He gasped and breathed in swamp air, twitched and felt denim under his palm. He was _warm_ , enveloped. He had missed this.

“Shit,” Matt whispered into his jaw, still plastered to his back. Makki let out a breathy chuckle.

“See? Heady.” He licked his lips, tongue grazing Oikawa’s cheek. “Thanks for the teeth, babe.”

“Anytime.” He sat back, taking Oikawa with him so he sat up straight, extracting his arms from the dip he had pulled Makki into at some point. “Go help them wash up,” he murmured as he maneuvered a jelly-Oikawa to face him, “and send Watari over when you can.” Makki stood, pulling his clothes straight with shaky hands, but Oikawa was already lost in the skin being bared at Matt’s stretched-out V-neck. Matt smiled, cinching Oikawa close between his legs straddling the bench. “What’re you waiting for?” Oikawa grinned and dove back into the white wood.

* * *

It was treacherously close to dawn when their strange caravan made it to the clinic. It didn’t look like much from the outside, just a low brick building in the middle of a seedy neighborhood, but it wasn’t supposed to. Oikawa parked his girl on the street in front of the door behind Kunimi’s Civic and Yahaba’s pickup, but Lev’s truck and Matt’s Rav4 kept going around the corner. Kunimi and Takeru went to unlock the clinic door, Kindaichi in tow, but Watari gestured for Oikawa to follow him and a fidgety Yahaba after the rumbling semi on foot. Oikawa obeyed, giving them a few feet of space so Watari could keep Yahaba from exploding on the pavement. It was the first night Oikawa had bonded with him, on both his and Matt’s insistence to bring him in the pack officially instead of sitting on the outside with a bond to Ushijima withering away, and it had been… shaky. It would take time to reach the strength of the rest of the pack.

The truck had backed up against the loading bay of a bodega, lights off inside but side door unlocked. Watari led them inside and through a dim hallway to the loading action. Lev already had the door open, Matt and Makki joining him in staring inside. “Well _I_ ain’t goin’ in first,” Lev grumbled.

Oikawa didn’t have time to stop and stare. He didn’t even pause in the loose ring they formed around the trailer mouth, hopping in and walking straight to Iwaizumi in the corner. He knew they were both asleep, full and sated, so he didn’t try to muffle the echo of his footsteps. Kyoutani was circled tight around both his tattered pork leg and Iwaizumi’s flank, muzzle tucked in the join of Iwaizumi’s knee. Oikawa crouched in front of Iwaizumi, scratching behind his ears. Iwaizumi grumbled in his sleep. “Hello, dear,” he murmured. Iwaizumi pushed into his hand.

“Oikawa? You good in there?” Makki stage-whispered form the back of the truck. Oikawa smiled.

“It’s okay,” he said at a normal volume. “They’re wiped out. Doubt they’d wake up for the second coming.” Multiple sets of feet crept closer behind him as he knelt so Iwaizumi could nuzzle into his lap, head big enough to fill it. He smiled, cupping his cheeks and picking out stray leaves still stuck in his ruff.

“Good Lord.”

“Never thought I’d see the day.” Matt huffed. “He’s _huge_.”

“Yeah, I mean we always knew Oikawa was a size queen but-” Oikawa glared back at Makki, who winked.

“How’re we gonna get them _out_?” Watari mused, ignoring the face-pulling contest. “Can’t exactly borrow the Montoya’s forklift for this one.”

Yahaba stepped forward, going down on one knee by Kyoutani. “I can get him,” he said, worrying the dirty meat out from his paws. “If someone can just get the door-”

“Dude.” He scowled back at Watari, who raised an eyebrow in return, fists on his hips. “You’re _not_ carrying him by yourself.”

“I have before!” he snapped – whipped wide eyes at the sleeping wolves. But they didn’t even stir. He shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said, quieter. “We’ve made do.”

“Right, sure, okay.” Watari came around behind Kyoutani, kneeling to get his hands under his rear. “You get him untangled from Oikawa’s big friend there and we’ll tagteam it, c’mon.”

Yahaba frowned at him, but a yawn slashed his intimidation at the ankles. He bit his lip and tried to pull Kyoutani away from Iwaizumi without touching him, but Kyoutani was wedged in tight. Oikawa held Iwaizumi steady while they fought a clingy furmonster, growling in his dreams and pawing for Iwaizumi. Yahaba’s arm brushed Iwaizumi’s side, and he snapped it away – frowned. “Huh.”

“What?” Watari grunted, trying to slide Kyoutani’s rear onto the heavy padded quilt Matt and Makki had laid out. Yahaba shook his head and kept working, a little less cautious about bumping Iwaizumi.

They got Kyoutani on the quilt, and Makki and Lev pulled it down the truck bed as Watari and Yahaba moved ahead to lift him down and waddle into the service elevator waiting on them, Kunimi at the controls. Matt tapped Oikawa’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Oikawa nodded, lifting Iwaiuzmi’s head off his lap so he could get his feet under him. He knelt, cupping Iwaizumi’s tail in as he scooped him up like the giant puppy he was, Matt spotting him as he stood, top-heavy but ready. “Let’s go.” Matt gave him a weighted look as Oikawa tucked Iwaizumi’s head into his shoulder, paws sticking out everywhere and fingers barely keeping him up. He wasn’t too _heavy_ for Oikawa, but he was at the limits of what his arms could physically reach around. Finally, Matt nodded and walked out of the truck, helping Oikawa hop the three feet to the concrete from the truck fender without falling on his face. Lev pulled it shut behind them.

* * *

Oikawa stayed in one of the clinic’s overly plush holding rooms until the sun started to tug at him, Iwaizumi’s sleeping head in his lap and pack buzzing around him. Kyoutani hadn’t settled down until he was allowed to burrow back into Iwaizumi’s side, so they had piled them on some throw pillows and turned the lights down low, whispering as they got things situated and ready for the inevitable. Oikawa couldn’t stand the low ceilings and beige walls of this place, but with Iwaizumi snoring into his thigh, it was almost tolerable.

“Hey.” He looked up at Matt, who crouched to his eye level. “You wanna sleep here today?”

Oikawa bit his lip. “Not really?”

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “Coming up on that window, then. You can if you want, but…”

Oikawa sighed, curling around Iwaizumi. “He said he would come back to me,” he mumbled, the words barely escaping his mouth.

“And he might. But not in the next…” He checked his watch. “Twenty-five minutes.” Shit. Was it that close? “C’mon, up.”

Oikawa pouted, but let Matt pull him up by his hand, Iwaizumi’s head sliding to the pillow beneath his knees. “What do you mean, ‘might’?”

Matt glanced down at the sprawl of brown fur. “It’s a roll of the dice on off-moon turns. Sometimes they come back in a week…” He shrugged. “Your boy’s probably fine.” Oikawa’s heartbeat did its best to skitter, but it was already skittish so it was hard to tell. “Go home. You can come back tonight and check on him, if you want.” His mouth quirked. “Or you can sulk in your room like a teenager.”

“I do not _sulk_.” Matt chuckled and pushed him out of the room, only allowing one longing look back before he directed him up the stairs to the front door. Oikawa bit his lip and dug in his pocket for his keys, handing them off. “Don’t really have time to drive back.”

“Fair enough.” He held the door open, squinting in the grey light. “We’ll take care of him.”

“I know.” He swallowed, fingers curling around Matt’s wrist. “I know.” He flicked off before he could say anything worse to his reputation like ‘thank you’, leaving Matt’s shocked face as an afterimage.

* * *

He got home in time to strip and crawl into bed, wrapping his sheet tight around him like it was anything like warmth, getting the pillow right just as the sun rose. He didn’t sink into a forest today, or a mudpit, or any of the other concoctions his head had been throwing at him the last few days. He drifted, through sand dunes and backyards, cacti growing in treetops like orchids and owls catching kangaroo mice, idle breezes tossing him around without purpose. He wasn’t the main player in this one, just a passerby. It was almost relaxing, a heavy heat keeping him contained, distant. So he drifted.

The first raindrop shocked him – literally. He looked up at purple-grey stormclouds, water hitting his face with little electric currents wriggling through him. He tried to go down to ground, but the breeze kept him buoyant, stuck in the storm to watch it ravage the countryside.

Lightning cracked down, striking trees, sheets of rainwater sluicing sand away to leave the roots bare. Oikawa slapped his hands to his ears, gritting his teeth against the static air as thunder boomed like a physical thing, stripping leaves from branches without care. Oikawa curled in, transfixed on the show. The trees bent in the gusts, buffeted, oaks leaning like willows but bouncing back up. There was a familiar lilt to it, likes plants on a cliff shaped by the sea gusts, but he didn’t have time for that as a fat lightning finger split a tree in half. He bit his lip, blood falling with the rain, as the giant fell, forest shaking around it. He geared up to shove his way down, antigravity be damned-

The winds died. He breathed it in as the forest started to settle, clouds rolling on above. Rain stopped filtering through the canopy, the first drops just now reaching the loam. Oikawa sagged against his suspension, blinking at the scar left by the fallen tree. He could already feel it being swallowed by the ecosystem, the petrichor of sweet decay turning it from death to life. He wanted to touch it, bury his hands in furry dirt, but he could only watch as shapes twisted in the undergrowth, dark and lupine, multiplying. It smelled like _home_.

They wove through tree trunks, congregating on a bright rainbow radius in the middle of the woods. He stared at it, mouth open – like looking in a mirror –

The shapes plunged in, water rippling, and he was jerked back, out of the air and into himself, into darkness. He smiled into his pillow.

* * *

He woke up that evening to a frantic buzzing and an old jolt. He stretched, smiling – it had been a while since he had felt his pack wake up with him. He missed that. He closed his eyes, humming as he rolled in the feeling – scowled. Would his phone shut _up_ already?

He slapped for the vibrating demon, missing a few times before his fingers closed around it. He flipped it open blind, slamming it to his ear. “ _What_ ,” he growled. Silence, heavy breathing, followed by a _click_. He grumbled and opened his crusty eyes to peer at the contact. Who was ‘Inkman’? He didn’t know any- wait. He rubbed his eyes, blinking sleep away. This wasn’t his phone.

He sat up, running a hand through his hair as the events of the night – day – before fell back into place. Right. All… that. He sighed and shook it out, peeking over the edge of the couch at the debris of his actual phone that, through the miracle of sex and emergencies, hadn’t been stepped on or noticed the night before. He fished around in the scraps, shoving unimportant bits under the couch to deal with later until he found his SIM card, scratched a bit but whole. He stretched as he stood, sheet falling to the couch. First order of business – new phone.

He stood, yawning, and crossed the hardwood to one of his corner cupboards, yanking open the sticky drawer hard enough to pop one of the waiting burners into his hand. He thumbed off the back to slide the SIM card into its spot, turned it on and called to activate it, then left it to charge as he got dressed. It wouldn’t do to show back up at the clinic unclothed like some patient.

He had planned to go straight back once he was people-ready, but he hesitated at the threshold, biting his lip as he felt down the gold of Iwaizumi’s connection, the semiprecious medley of his pack. There were wolf things going on down there, important things that he had no reason to be a part of. He sighed and gave Iwaizumi’s a little tug, a bell pull, and went around the hotel to the garage, leaving the lights off. It was time to remember how to be human again.

He yanked the overhead lightbulb on once he got the door up, reaching for his phone to check his messages as he tried to decide which project to work on tonight. Oh. This was still Iwaizumi’s phone. He sighed, but, after flicking back to his room to grab his _actual_ phone and throw it on the worktable in case someone from the pack tried to call him, sat on the hood of his sweetheart to read a few. Well, it wasn’t like it was password-protected or anything.

There were a lot of unread messages from the last few days. Oikawa scrolled through them, not opening the conversations but reading the previewed words. None of the contact names made _any_ sense, all in some weird inside-joke code that he would need Iwaizumi’s mind to decipher, but all asking the same basic question – _Where are you?_

He frowned at the phone, kicking his heels against the wheelwell. Some of the contact labels brought a flash of a face he didn’t know, a laugh, the touch of a hand. His scowl grew. It was one thing for Iwaizumi to show up smelling like someone else in a car that smelled like _another_ someone else, but it was another thing entirely for twenty people to have separate concerns about his whereabouts. Maybe… maybe it would be cruel to ask him to delete them all.

His scrolling got down to unbolded, read ones. There were several exchanges between a _CatBreath_ , a _BirdBrain_ , and a _BossMan_ , but buried in those was a _Tooru_. He bit his lip on a smile as he read through his silly self-texts and Iwaizumi’s adorable responses. Was it flattering that he didn’t have an odd nickname yet, or did it have to be earned? He sighed and flipped it closed, sticking it back in his pocket as he slid off the Impala, rolling up his sleeves. Time to see what state the old girl was in.

It was hard to settle on any one project when he could feel Iwaizumi’s mood blossoming to a bright blue on the horizon, a cyan sun. He didn’t want to dull it, not when it had been so yellow for so long, but why couldn’t he be that bright over _here?_ He flitted between his old bike, his Impala, the half-finished armoire, and tabbing through more of Iwaizumi’s contacts. What? It just kept _buzzing_. At least five new messages came in while he waited, all innocuous and all making him pull on Iwaizumi’s bell. He wanted his baby back, after all.

He finally got lost under the belly of his sweetheart, dark of the motor oil cave as opposite to that strange, steamy place as he could get. He was deep enough in daydreams of her purr that he almost didn’t notice the hum of a real engine getting louder, but he did notice when it cut off at the garage door. He slid out and rolled to his feet, blinking in the halogens as Iwaizumi walked out of the night, brown and warm and smile in his eyes. Oikawa tried to wipe off his hands – God, he was a right mess now, it was _stupid_ to try and work it out when he _knew_ Iwaizumi was human again, when _he_ had twisted him up so much so quickly, when he didn’t even know if was coming back again or leaving or-

Iwaizumi gathered him in a vice of a hug, nose in Oikawa’s collar and wolf singing. Oikawa sighed – he could have wept – and held him tighter, the contact bleeding away all his fluttering concerns like a bite. Iwaizumi bent back a little more, trying to lift Oikawa off the ground, so he wrapped his too-long legs around his waist to help. Iwaizumi was _here_. Did anything else even matter?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, fingers squeezing whatever they held.

“I’m okay,” Iwaizumi replied, breathing in. “I told you I’d come back soon.”

Oikawa sniffed. “Matt said you might not come back at all,” he whined, pressing in. Well, he had _implied_ it, but still. Iwaizumi adjusted his hold so he could hoist Oikawa higher, Oikawa running his hands along his back to check for lightning scars, something to match the claw marks on his front, the silver muzzle slashes across Kyoutani’s nose, the hollow purple in Makki’s face. “I-”

“It’s okay,” Iwaizumi breathed, kissing along his neck, up his jaw to his cheek. Oikawa sighed, pulling back from this undeserved attention so he could look Iwaizumi in his honest face and stop lying to himself.

“It’s not okay.” Iwaizumi blinked at him, lips parted. He ran a hand through Iwaizumi’s coarse hair. “This was my fault, all of it. I’ve been neglecting my pack and…” He huffed, bumping their foreheads together. “None of this should have happened, and I’m not going to let it happen again. If you hadn’t been here-”

“But I was,” Iwaizumi said, “I am. And I will be.” Their eyes met, and Oikawa felt his pull, not just steam and lanterns but longevity, an interconnection. “I’m going to run with your pack on the next full moon,” he swore, unblinking. Oikawa tilted his head, unwrapping the layers of the gift Iwaizumi had for him. Iwaizumi sighed. “I want you to bind me.”

Something almost like warmth surged in Oikawa, speeding in his veins. He was speaking exact truths tonight… “Tonight?” he checked. Iwaizumi nodded, unwrapping Oikawa from around him so they both were standing again.

“I want to do this right. With you, with your pack. I don’t want there to be any room for me to cause trouble, and… I’m not going anywhere. I want to be able to come see you, to stay here without…” His face twisted. Oikawa knew what happened to trespassers down here. “I don’t want to give the Bishop an excuse. If we play by the rules, we can spit in his face and there won’t be a damn thing he can do about it.”

What had _happened_ in the clinic basement to make such a rebel out of his drifter werewolf? Barely twenty-four hours ago, Iwaizumi was doing everything but running to Canada to get away from Louisiana politics. “What in the world happened while I was asleep?”

Iwaizumi hid his face in his shoulder, shifting on his feet. “Everyone in your pack can touch me. Even the kid, Kindaichi. I…” He shook his head like a dog. “I don’t know if it’s because of you, or us, or what, but it’s never happened before, ever.” He looked up, eyes old and tired. “I found my mate, and a pack that accepts me, and I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize that, even if-” He clenched his face shut, teeth grit. “Even if it means I have to stay.”

Silver stabbed through Oikawa’s heart, and the compromise he had developed spinning through Iwaizumi’s phone clinked into place. “Oh, puppy.” He ran a thumb over the lines in Iwaizumi’s forehead. “I know you can’t stay.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes popped open, the swamping gratitude almost as overwhelming as their earlier reunion. “What?”

Oikawa fished out Iwaizumi’s phone and flipped it open with a wrist flick, picking out random messages to read loud. “’Have a place for you at dinner Thursday, will you be in town?’” Tab tab tab. “’Haven’t heard from you, everything okay?’” Down. “’Plans for next full moon?’ ‘Where are you? We’re worried.’” God, these just kept going. “’You’re overdue for a touchup and Aone is looming. Call him, asshole.’” Oikawa handed him the phone screen-first. “Those are just the ones I saw coming in, but there were already more than a dozen texts when I woke up.”

Iwaizumi took the phone, scowling at it as he flipped through the same messages and more. He worried his lip as he called his voicemail and listened to something a lot like the angry silence Oikawa had woken up to. “Shit.”

Oikawa watched him think, worry lines back, shoulders up. Of course he had family, a support structure. He _did_ exist outside of Oikawa, had for decades. It was selfish to think he was alone for real. He looked up at Oikawa, and Oikawa ventured, “They’re your pack.”

Iwaizumi nodded, barely. “As close as I’ve ever had, until now.”

Oikawa braced himself. “And your… partners.”

“They’re my people,” Iwaizumi sighed. “Most of them, I’ll drop in for dinner, or meet up for drinks, or call them from the road, and I’ll tell them I met my mate-“ ‘Mate’ still did weird things to Oikawa’s belly- “and I found a pack, and they’ll congratulate me, and that’ll be it, no explanation needed. Just friends. Family.”

“And the rest?” he forced himself to ask. He didn’t _want_ to know, but he _had_ to know, or forever be looking for the ex-boyfriend lurking at Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Iwaizumi set his feet.

“I’ve been with the Houston packmaster since before he met his mate,” he explained through clenched teeth. “Our relationship has always been open, but even when things changed, it was important enough to work through, to stay together. They’ve already said they’ll back off because-” He swallowed on the image of the mattress-wrecking monster- “because they know how you feel about… sharing me. But giving them up would be like you cutting yourself off from Matt and Makki. You could get the blood from someone else, but it’s not really about that.”

So that’s why he was headed to Houston. He had never really been a cat person, either, but this wasn’t really about that. He bit his tongue. “Anyone else?”

“Someone who used to run a pack in Oklahoma,” he said without pause. “I haven’t heard from him in almost a year, and he might not even be alive still, but when – if – he comes back, I don’t want it to be a surprise.”

Oikawa waited for more. When they didn’t come, he asked, “That’s all?” Iwaizumi nodded. “No surprise additions or-” Iwaizumi shook his head, lips bit. Oikawa huffed, shoulders dropping. He promised he would try, but he didn’t say he would _like_ it. “I hate them.”

Iwaizumi smiled, teeth flashing. “I know.”

“I’m not going to cut you off from…” He gestured at Iwaizumi’s phone. “But it’s…” He gave in with a sigh. “We’ll try to make it work. _I’ll_ try.”

“That’s all I ask.” Iwaizumi stepped in to take Oikawa’s hand. “And I’m going to try, too.” He rubbed his thumb over Oikawa’s knuckles. “I’m going to take you out to dinner.” Oikawa laughed, looking away from this romantic animal. “And I’m going to take you to the movies.” He lifted Oikawa’s hand to his mouth to kiss each knuckle, down each finger. “And we’re going to make out in the back row.” Oikawa bit his lip, cheeks aching, trying not to be swayed by this stupid imaginary teenager date, but it sounded like _fun_. Damn him. Iwaizumi’s kisses moved up his arm, not breaking eye contact as the dumb date played out in both their heads. “And then we’re going to go to a diner, and we’re going to drink coffee together, and you’re going to tell me about the first time you saw the movie, and I’m going to hang on your every word, and then we’re going to sneak out and have sex in the back seat of your muscle car…” He reached Oikawa’s neck, body pressed, cheeks brushing as he whispered, “And in the dark I’ll tell you how much I love you.”

Oikawa shuddered, a flighty virgin in his arms, and kissed it away, trying to return the feeling to sender. Iwaizumi breathed over him, an earthy thing, and Oikawa led him back by the mouth, sidling backwards until he felt lukewarm metal against his legs. He pulled Iwaizumi in close so he could be sandwiched between his two loves, opening his mouth wider. Iwaizumi hummed and licked over his teeth, dipping where the fangs weren’t.

Iwaizumi broke away for an aerobic lifeform’s breath, and even Oikawa had to take in some air. “Promise you’ll call.”

“Until you’re sick of me,” Iwaizumi promised with a chuckle. He grabbed Oikawa’s face and planted a cartoonish couple’s kiss on his mouth. “I promise.”

Oikawa measured the waves within them. It was time. “You really want this?” he asked, keeping Iwaizumi away from his skin so they could see. Iwaizumi’s humor fell just a little, just enough.

“I do.” Oikawa smiled.

He opened the back door of his sweetheart on feel, falling back on the leather. He held a hand out for Iwaizumi waiting at his feet. He could feel the joke on Iwaizumi’s fingertips, but he let it drop and just crawled in, straddling Oikawa’s lap. He could feel the forest in his ears, like a heartbeat. “Show me your arm,” Oikawa said, hand gliding over the stretchy fabric of someone else’s shirt. Did he even own clothes that were his anymore?

Iwaizumi pushed back before he could put teeth to skin. “No.” He blinked a few times. “Not for this.” Oikawa frowned, but Iwaizumi tilted his head as explanation, neck laid bare. Oikawa’s breath caught.

“Are you sure?” he gasped as he rose to meet him, arms winding around him, Iwaizumi’s blood thundering in him, the blue of his artery shining gold.

“Yes.” Oikawa shivered at the sigh. “I’m yours, Tooru. If you call, I’ll answer.”

“Do you swear it?” Oikawa asked, ritual words falling off his tongue like petals.

“I swear it,” was answered. “If you call, I’ll answer.” Oikawa sank in.

When he landed in the forest this time, it rose to meet him, a leaf pile to fall into. He rolled in it until he met dirt, spitting up seeds from under his tongue. They all sprouted on impact, rotten rainbows curving out, springing across the forest… but he couldn’t stay. He pulled back, licking them away, and bared his own. “If you call, I’ll answer.”

“Do you swear it?” Iwaizumi said, howl interlaced.

“I swear it.” Oikawa’s eyes fluttered. “If you call, I’ll answer.”

Iwaizumi snapped, and the rainbows filled every light in the woods, every empty space refracting. Oikawa only had a moment to watch it spin before Iwaizumi pulled back, panting, red on his tongue. Oikawa held him up, shushing when he started to shake. Bonding was always intense, but of course, Iwaizumi never did anything halfway. He closed his eyes and reached for their gold thread, but instead of cutting his palm open, it wrapped up tight, soft fur and lamb’s ear. He smiled.

Iwaizumi pulled back when he wasn’t shaking, pushing Oikawa’s hair out of his face to kiss him bloody. “If you miss me, call. On the phone first.”

Oikawa nodded against the almost-kiss. “If I call you, come back to me.”

Iwaizumi nodded back. “We’re going to do this right,” he swore. “No more putting off phone calls.”

“Mm, communication.” Iwaizumi laughed as Oikawa hummed until he kissed him quiet, falling back on the seat. A topic for another night.

* * *

Iwaizumi kissed like he lived – hard, everbranching, deep and everywhere. Oikawa tried to keep up, mortal will back up against immortal stamina, letting the thrill of this new thing push his clock forward as they made no efforts to move beyond making out in a classic car. He did get Iwaizumi’s borrowed clothes off him, but only so he could feel him better, catch a few more glimpses of rainbows in treetops. They didn’t even need to kiss after a while, skin on skin speaking for itself ( _like Star Trek, that human voice in his head whispered_ ) as they tangled up together, faces in hair and hands trailing over arms, not really caring whose. Iwaizumi fell asleep for real – he had felt that undercurrent, something bone-deep left from his shifts – and Oikawa let him, tracing circles into his back. This was nice, even if his bare feet were sticking out in empty air for any passing raccoon to see-

That _damn_ phone again. What _were_ these people, nocturnal? Iwazumi fumbled at the crumpled clothes in the footspace, but Oikawa had longer arms and better hearing. He squinted at the contact name on the front of the phone. “Spitfire?”

Iwaizumi groaned into Oikawa’s chest, a vibrating rumble. “ _Fuck_ , that was today.” Oikawa hummed, still watching the phone shake in his hand. “Taiko festival in Miami. I was supposed to help set up.” He sighed into Oikawa’s breastbone. “Don’t answer it. She’ll talk your ear off.” She? But Oikawa didn’t feel like talking to anyone else today. He let it go to voicemail, then flipped it open with a flick. “Snoop,” Iwaizumi grunted without looking. Oikawa accepted the label and checked his recent call log. The only ones he even remotely understood were ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’.

“Are all your contacts in code?” Iwaizumi hummed, and Oikawa explained, “’Reality Check’, ‘Loudmouth’, ‘Red Eye’…” Iwaizumi flapped a hand for the phone, but Oikawa just held it higher. “Is ‘Inkman’ your dearly beloved? He’s been blowing up your phone all night.”

“He’s my tattoo artist,” Iwaizumi told his collar, wriggling around on top of him for a better spot.

“Your _what?_ ” Matt had always complained that a wolf’s self-healing kept them from getting tattoos that lasted longer than purple hair. Iwaizumi grunted, not quite awake enough to communicate in human sounds completely.

“It might not even show anymore, but…” He flapped his hand. “Turn on a light.”

Oikawa sat up a little, shifting Iwaizumi’s pillow from his chest to his leg as he hit the ceiling for the back seat light. When it snapped on, the dull colors on Iwaizumi’s back came into a focus, a multicolored tree layered like paint on an old door. “Oh.” He traced along the dip of his spine, up the trunk to the branches, nails carving out hollyhocks next to spruce, silver hair in starlight and a springtime canyon laugh.

“It fades every time I turn, so I have to get it touched up pretty often, but Aone never complains. Sort of a pet project. This is the first time I’ve missed an appointment, and he worries.”

“What…” No. “Who is this?”

“Everyone who matters as of two months ago? It changes, but…” He slapped a hand on the crown of the tree between his shoulderblades, a wide-leaved oak next to an autumn maple. “Mom and Dad.” His fingers crawled to his left, something like laurels with bright yellow dots in the dark green leaves. “This is Spitfire and her mate. Inkman is the snowy one,” he said as his arm flopped back forward, directing his attention to the right and the black and white branch crested in evergreen.

“This is them,” he marveled, tracing the branch between Mom and Inkman, savannah leaves wrapped in pine. Iwaizumi nodded, skin rippling under Oikawa’s touch.

“No matter where I am, I’m always leaving someone behind,” he said into the still of the garage. “This lets me keep them closer.”

Oikawa stared at it, bottom lip out. It just kept stabbing him, the layers on years that he would never really know, only see anecdotes about, never own. No matter how much he tried to kick himself to accept that, it still boiled. But he could act the part. “You’re going to have a busy week.” Iwaizumi pushed up on his hands, hair sticking up, to frown at him. Oikawa pressed his phone between his palm and the seat. “You have a car to return, an appointment to reschedule, and a whole lot of congratulations to receive before you come back to take me to the movies on Friday night.”

Iwaizumi’s mind had woken up at last, so the thoughts played out too fast for Oikawa to watch before he grinned. “Thank you,” he said with a kiss. Oikawa pushed him away.

“Don’t be so _happy_ ,” he grumbled. “You’re going to give me a complex.” Iwaizumi just kept grinning, getting into his face to kiss him more, a dog licking at his face until he stopped pretending and kissed him back, making him happy until he could pull away without getting attacked again. “You should go,” he said.

“At this point, I don’t think anyone will notice if I stay the rest of the night,” Iwaizumi said with a raised eyebrow.

Oikawa smiled, already feeling the sun’s pull. “You already have.” Iwaizumi scowled, and Oikawa rubbed his cheek against his. “It’s almost dawn.” Iwaizumi glanced over his shoulder at the gray light. “But you’re coming back,” Oikawa prodded him.

“I’m coming back.”

“And I’ll be waiting,” Oikawa promised. “But not brooding,” he said before Iwaizumi could be sassy. “Not pining. I have… amends to make here, too.”

“How can I get in touch with you?” Iwaizumi asked, plastic of his phone warm against Oikawa’s shoulder.

Oikawa flapped a hand. “I have a spare, I just didn’t think to set it up. Same number. Unless you need me to give it to you again.”

Iwaizumi nipped at his lower lip. “I’ll _call_.”

“Your wallet and keys are in my pants pocket.” He gave Iwaizumi one last quick kiss before he pushed him out of the car with his feet. “Go on, before I get caught in the sun.”

Iwaizumi backed out of the car, grabbing clothing along the way. He paused while patting down Oikawa’s pants for his stuff and just put them on himself. Oikawa’s mouth went dry as he buttoned up, straightening out his grease-stained shirt to throw it on. “You left my clothes in the woods,” he grumbled, “so I’m taking yours.”

Oikawa pushed his fangs back with his tongue. “You don’t think your beaus will mind you showing up smelling like a vampire?”

“They’re gonna get used to it.” Iwaizumi filled out his clothes different than he did, and he couldn’t _wait_ to see how the opposite looked. He slid forward so he could touch, hooking his fingers in a beltloop.

“I could get used to it.” He slid the dropped phone into Iwaizumi’s empty back pocket.

“Until Friday?”

“Unless you _really_ wanna stay,” he said, shoving his face in his own shirt. How long would it take to start smelling like both of them?

He could feel Iwaizumi hesitate, but his voice still said, “Friday.” He kissed the top of Oikawa’s hair. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Oh, go already,” Oikawa whined, turning him around by the waist and shoving him to the door. Iwaizumi laughed. “You can’t come back if you won’t _leave_.”

Iwaizumi kept laughing, fading as he crunched up the gravel. Oikawa flopped back on the seat, seams of the leather uncomfortable enough to keep him there. Iwaizumi faded, up the hill, around the corner to the not-his Jeep. Oikawa moped for another thirty seconds, then sighed and sat up, wriggling into the sweatpants Iwaizumi had traded him for. He needed to get his baby inside and the door closed before he crashed in direct contact, no matter how much he felt like a high school girl the morning after prom.

He wedged the bike in well enough that he could close the door, sparing one last glance for the uphill corner Iwaizumi had vanished behind. He sighed and dragged the door down, locking himself inside for the day. He needed to keep the moment close, as long as he could.

He crawled back in the backseat after grabbing his phone from the worktable. There was a courtesy _He just left_ text from Matt, even though they both knew he didn’t need it. It was sweet that he had bothered, though, so he sent back a _Thanks ;)_ before curling up around it, wriggling on the backseat for a good spot. Somehow it was more comfortable with Iwaizumi on top of him.

Like a bell pull, the phone on his chest started to ring. He stared at it as the sun started to pull it down, deciphering the katakana surrounding – he flipped it open and laid it over his ear. “Hajime?”

“ _Hey baby_ ,” he said, a little thrill running down Oikawa’s spine. “ _Did you miss me?_ ”

“You haven’t even left,” he said, wrinkling his nose as he felt it out. He was barely even out of the parking lot.

“ _Yeah, but do you miss me?_ ”

“Are you always this needy, Iwa-chan?” he asked as he stretched, catching the open door handle with his foot to pull it closed. “Because I’ll have you know I value my independence,” he said through a yawn, pressing his knees against the passenger seat.

“ _Keep me company until the sun comes up?_ ” he asked, voice quality a little different but Oikawa was too out of it to examine it.

“Mmm, only because you asked nicely.” He curled on his side, phone resting on the side of his head. “I wouldn’t want you to get lonely without me.”

“ _No_ ,” he said, smile audible, “ _we wouldn’t want that._ ” Oikawa smiled, eyes closed, and breathed in old leather and new sweat, toes curling around a seatbelt. Iwaizumi hummed on the other side, radio low in the background. He couldn’t tell the song, but it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t about that.

“Hajime?”

“ _Hmm?_ ”

“I do miss you.” He yawned, sun almost completely up now. “But this is nice.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” he said as the phone slipped to the cushion, still open. “ _Yeah, it is._ ”


End file.
